Plate  I.— First  Conditions  of  Accumulation  and  Fusion  in 
Motionless  Snow 


DEUCALION 

ALSO 

THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER 
THE  EAGLE'S  NEST 
ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE 

BY 

JOHN  RUSKIN,  M.A. 

OF  "the  seven  lamps  of  architecture,"  "the  crown  of  wild  olive," 
"sesame  and  lilies,"  etc. 


BOSTON 
ALDINE  book  PUBLISHING  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


CONTENTS. 


DEUCALION. 
Volume  I. 
Introduction,  .... 

CHAPTER  I. 

The  Alps  and  Jura, 

CHAPTER  XL 
The  Three  Alras,     .  , 

CHAPTER  III. 

On  Ice  Cream, 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Labitur,  et  Labetur, 

CHAPTER  V. 

The  Valley  of  Cluse,  . 

ctlAPTER  v£ 

Of  Butter  and  Honey, 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Iris  of  the  Earth, 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Alphabet, 


CHAPTER  IX, 

Fife  and  Water, 

CHAPTER  X. 

Thirty  Years  Since, 

CHAPTER  XL 

Of  Silica  in  Lavas, 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Yew  dale  and  its  Streamlets, 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Of  Stellar  Silica, 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

SCHISMA  MONTIUM,  .... 

APPENDIX,  .... 


Living  Waves, 

Revision,  r 

Kruma  Artifex, 
INDEX,     ,  o 


Volume  II. 
CHAPTER  I. 

CHAPTER  II. 

CHAPTER  III. 

«         »  » 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGH 

How  the  Agricultural  System  of  the  Black  Brothers  was 
interfered  with  by  Southwest  Wind,  Esquire,  .         .  239 

CHAPTER  II. 

Of  the  Proceedings  of  the  Three  Brothers  after  the  Visit 
of  Southwest  Wind,  Esquire;  and  how  Little  Gluck 
had  an  Interview  with  the  King  of  the  Golden  River  250 

CHAPTER  III. 

i  • 

How  Mr.  Hans  set  off  on  an  Expedition  to  the  Golden 
River,  and  how  he  prospered  therein,  .         .  258 

CHAPTER  IV. 

How  Mr.  Schwartz  set  off  on  an  Expedition  to  the  Golden 
River,  and  how  he  prospered  therein,     .         .         .  265 

CHAPTER  V. 

How  little  Gluck  set  off  on  an  Expedition  to  the  Golden 
River,  and  how  he  prospered  therein  ;  with  other 
matters  of  interest,         .....  268 


Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee,       ......  273 


EAGLE'S  NEST. 


LECTURE  I. 
February  8,  1872. 

PAGE 

The  function  in  Art  of  the  faculty  called  by  the  Greeks, 

aoQta.    ......  .  301 

LECTURE  II. 

February  10,  1872. 

The  function  in  Science  of  the  faculty  called  by  the 

Greeks,  <roq>ia      .  .  .  .  .  .  .  313 

LECTURE  III. 
February  15,  1872. 
The  Relation  of  Wise  Art  to  Wise  Science,       .         .  324 

LECTURE  IV. 

February  17,  1872. 

The  function  in  Art  and  Science  of  the  virtue  called 
by  the  Greeks,  ffaxppocrvvy} .      .....  340 

LECTURE  V. 

February,  22,  1872. 

The  function  in  Art  and  Science  of  the  virtue  called 

by  the  Greeks,  aurdptcsia     .....  348 


LECTURE  VI. 
February  24,  1872. 
The  relation  to  Art  of  the  Science  of  Light, 


PAGE 
•  36l 


LECTURE  VII. 
February  29,  1872. 
The  relation  to  Art  of  the  Sciences  of  Inorganic  Form  373 

LECTURE  VIII. 
March  2,  1872. 

The  relation  to  Art  of  the  Science  of  Organic  Form,      .  385 

LECTURE  IX. 
March  7,  1872. 

Introduction  to  Elementary  Exercises  in  Physiologic 

Art.    The  Story  of  the  Halcyon,        .  •         •  399 

LECTURE  X. 
March  9,  1872. 

Introduction  to  Elementary  Exercises  in  Historic  Art. 
The  Heraldic  Ordinaries,     .....  4ig 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER. 


DESIGNED  AND  DRAWN  ON  WOOD  BY  RICHARD  DOYLE. 

TAGE 

Southwest  Wind,  Esq.,  knocking  at  the  Black  Brothers' 
door,  engraved  by  C.  Thurston  Thompson,  Froiitispiece 

The  Treasure  Valley,  engraved  by  C.  Thurston  Thomp- 
son, ........  Title 

Initial  Letter,  and  Mountain  Range,  engraved  by  G.  and 

E.  Dalziel,    .         .         .         .         .  •       .         .  239 

Southwest  Wind,  Esq.,  seated  on  the  hob,  engraved  by 

G.  and  E.  Dalziel,        ......  244 

Southwest  Wind,  Esq.,  bowing  to  the  Black  Brothers, 
engraved  by  H.  Orrin  Smith,     ....  246 

Storm  Scene,  engraved  by  G.  and  E.  Dalziel,  .         .  248 

Card  of  Southwest  Wind,  Esq.,  engraved  by  H.  Orrin 
Smith,  ........  249 

Initial  Letter,  and  Cottage  in  the  Treasure  Valley, 
engraved  by  Isabel  Thompson,        ....  250 

The    Black    Brothers    drinking,  and    Gluck  working, 

ENGRAVED  BY  C.  S   CHELTNAM,        .  .  .  .  251 

Gluck  looking  out  at  the  Golden  River,  engraved  by 

H.  D.  Linton,      .         .         .         .         .         .  -252 

The  Golden  Dwarf  appearing  to  Gluck,  engraved  by 
G.  and  E.  Dalziel,  ......  255 


PAGE 

Gluck  looking  up  the  Chimney,  engraved  by  H.  Orrin 
Smith,      .         .         .         .         .         .         .  .257 

The  Black  Brothers  beating  Gluck,  engraved  by  C.  S. 
Cheltnam,     .......  258 

Hans  and  Schwartz  fighting,  engraved  by  H.  Orrin  Smith,  259 

Schwartz   before  the  Magistrate,  engraved  by    C.  S. 
Cheltnam,  ......  260 

Hans  and  the  Dog,  engraved  by  H.  Orrin  Smith,     .         .  262 

The  Black  Stone,  engraved  by  G.  and  E.  Dalziel,         .  264 

Initial  Letter — Gluck  releasing  Schwartz,  engraved  by 
G.  and  E.  Dalziel,       .         .         .         .         .         .  265 

Schwartz  ascending  the  Mountain,  engraved  by  H.  Orrin 
Smith,  .......  266 

Initial  Letter— Gluck  ascending  the  Mountain,  engraved 
by  H.  Orrin  Smith,      ......  268 

Priest  giving  Gluck  Holy  Water,  engraved  by  G.  and  E. 
Dalziel,         .......  269 

Gluck  and  the  Child,  engraved  by  C.  S.  Cheltnam,  .  270 


LIST  OF  PLATES. 


DEUCALION. 

PLATE  FACING  PAGE 

1.  First   conditions  of  Accumulation   and  Fusion  in 

Motionless  Snow,    ....  Frontispiece 

2.  The  progress  of  Modern  Science  in  Glacier  Survey,  .  58 

3.  Mural  Agates,        ......  72 

4.  Amethyst  Quartz,       .         .                  .         .  .92 

5.  Structure  of  Lake  Agate,        .         .                  .  125 

6.  Lateral  Compression  of  Strata,    .         .         .  .  139 

7.  The  Strata  of  Switzerland  and  Cumberland,        .  154 

8.  "Development."   Crocodile  Latent  in  Toucan,  .  176 

9.  "Development."    Short  Noses  into  Long,    .         .  190 

10.  Modes  of  Crystalline  Increment,  •         .         .  222 

11.  The  Olympian  Lightning,  .         .         •         •  225 


DEUCALION 

COLLECTED  STUDIES  ON  THE  LAPSE  OF  WAVES 
AND  LIFE  OF  STONES 


IETKODUCTIOK 


Brantwood,  13th  July,  1875. 

I  have  been  glancing  lately  at  many  biographies,  and  have 
been  much  struck  by  the  number  of  deaths  which  occur  be- 
tween the  ages  of  fifty  and  sixty,  (and,  for  the  most  part,  in 
the  earlier  half  of  the  decade,)  in  cases  where  the  brain  has 
been  much  used  emotionally :  or  perhaps  it  would  be  more 
accurate  to  say,  where  the  heart,  and  the  faculties  of  percep- 
tion connected  with  it,  have  stimulated  the  brain-action.  Sup- 
posing such  excitement  to  be  temperate,  equable,  and  joyful,  I 
have  no  doubt  the  tendency  of  it  would  be  to  prolong,  rather 
than  depress,  the  vital  energies.  But  the  emotions  of  indig- 
nation, grief,  controversial  anxiety  and  vanity,  or  hopeless, 
and  therefore  uncontending,  scorn,  are  all  of  them  as  deadly 
to  the  body  as  poisonous  air  or  polluted  water  ;  and  when  I 
reflect  how  much  of  the  active  part  of  my  past  life  has  been 
spent  in  these  states, — and  that  what  may  remain  to  me  of  life 
can  never  more  be  in  any  other, — I  begin  to  ask  myself,  with 
somewhat  pressing  arithmetic,  how  much  time  is  likely  to  be 
left  me,  at  the  age  of  fifty-six,  to  complete  the  various  designs 
for  which,  until  past  fifty,  I  was  merely  collecting  materials. 

Of  these  materials,  I  have  now  enough  by  me  for  a  most 
interesting  (in  my  own  opinion)  history  of  fifteenth-century 
Florentine  art,  in  six  octavo  volumes  ;  an  analysis  of  the  Attic 
art  of  the  fifth  century  b.c,  in  three  volumes ;  an  exhaustive 
history  of  northern  thirteenth-century  art,  in  ten  volumes ;  a 
life  of  Turner,  with  analysis  of  modern  landscape  art,  in  four 
volumes  ;  a  life  of  Walter  Scott,  with  analysis  of  modern  epic 
art,  in  seven  volumes  ;  a  life  of  Xenophon,  with  analysis  of  the 
general  principles  of  Education,  in  ten  volumes ;  a  commen- 


6 


INTRODUCTION. 


tary  on  Hesiod,  with  final  analysis  of  the  principles  of  Political 
Economy,  in  nine  volumes  ;  and  a  general  description  of  the 
geology  and  botany  of  the  Alps,  in  twenty-four  volumes. 

Of  these  works,  though  all  carefully  projected,  and  some 
already  in  progress, — yet,  allowing  for  the  duties  of  my  Pro- 
fessorship, possibly  continuing  at  Oxford,  and  for  the  increas- 
ing correspondence  relating  to  Fors  Clavigera, — it  does  not 
seem  to  me,  even  in  my  most  sanguine  moments,  now  probable 
that  I  shall  live  to  effect  such  conclusion  as  would  be  satisfac- 
tory to  me ;  and  I  think  it  will  therefore  be  only  prudent,  how- 
ever humiliating,  to  throw  together  at  once,  out  of  the  heap 
of  loose  stones  collected  for  this  many-towered  city  which  I 
am  not  able  to  finish,  such  fragments  of  good  marble  as  may 
perchance  be  useful  to  future  builders ;  and  to  clear  away, 
out  of  sight,  the  lime  and  other  rubbish  which  I  meant  for 
mortar. 

And  because  it  is  needful,  for  my  health's  sake,  hencefor- 
ward to  do  as  far  as  possible  what  I  find  pleasure,  or  at  least 
tranquillity,  in  doing,  I  am  minded  to  collect  first  what  I  have 
done  in  geology  and  botany  ;  for  indeed,  had  it  not  been  for 
grave  mischance  in  earlier  life,  (partly  consisting  in  the  unlucky 
gift,  from  an  affectionate  friend,  of  Rogers'  poems,  as  related 
in  Fors  Clavigera  for  August  of  this  year,)  my  natural  dispo- 
sition for  these  sciences  would  certainly  long  ago  have  made 
me  a  leading  member  of  the  British  Association  for  the  Ad- 
vancement of  Science  ;  or — who  knows  ? — even  raised  me  to 
the  position  which  it  was  always  the  summit  of  my  earthly 
ambition  to  attain,  that  of  President  of  the  Geological  Society. 
For,  indeed,  I  began  when  I  was  only  twelve  years  old,  a  'Minera- 
logical  Dictionary/  intended  to  supersede  everything  done  by 
Werner  and  Mohs,  (and  written  in  a  shorthand  composed  of 
crystallographic  signs  now  entirely  unintelligible  to  me,) — 
and  year  by  year  have  endeavoured,  until  very  lately,  to  keep 
abreast  with  the  rising  tide  of  geological  knowledge  ;  some- 
times even,  I  believe,  pushing  my  way  into  little  creeks  in  ad- 
vance of  the  general  wave.  I  am  not  careful  to  assert  for  my- 
self the  petty  advantage  of  priority  in  discovering  what,  some 
day  or  other,  somebody  must  certainly  have  discovered.  But 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


X  think  it  due  to  my  readers,  that  they  may  receive  what  real 
good  there  may  be  in  these  studies  with  franker  confidence, 
to  tell  them  that  the  first  sun-portrait  ever  taken  of  the  Mat- 
terhorn,  (and  as  far  as  I  know  of  any  Swiss  mountain  what- 
ever,) was  taken  by  me  in  the  year  1849  ;  that  the  outlines, 
(drawn  by  measurement  of  angle,)  given  in  'Modern  Painters' 
of  the  Cervin,  and  aiguilles  of  Chamouni,  are  at  this  day  de- 
monstrable by  photography  as  the  trustworthiest  then  in  ex- 
istence ;  that  I  was  the  first  to  point  out,  in  my  lecture  given 
in  the  Royal  Institution,*  the  real  relation  of  the  vertical 
cleavages  to  the  stratification,  in  the  limestone  ranges  belong- 
ing to  the  chalk  formation  in  Savoy ;  and  that  my  analysis  of 
the  structure  of  agates,  ('Geological  Magazine/)  remains,  even 
to  the  present  day,  the  only  one  which  has  the  slightest  claim 
to  accuracy  of  distinction,  or  completeness  of  arrangement.  1 
propose  therefore,  if  time  be  spared  me,  to  collect,  of  these 
detached  studies,  or  lectures,  what  seem  to  me  deserving  of 
preservation;  together  with  the  more  carefully  written  chapters 
on  geology  and  botany  in  the  latter  volumes  of  '  Modern 
Painters ; '  adding  the  memoranda  I  have  still  by  me  in  manu- 
script, and  such  further  illustrations  as  may  occur  to  me  on 
revision.  Which  fragmentary  work,  —  trusting  that  among 
the  flowers  or  stones  let  fall  by  other  hands  it  may  yet  find 
service  and  life, — I  have  ventured  to  dedicate  to  Proserpina 
and  Deucalion. 

Why  not  rather  to  Eve,  or  at  least  to  one  of  the  wives  of 
Lamech,  and  to  Noah?  asks,  perhaps,  the  pious  modern 
reader. 

Because  I  think  it  well  that  the  young  student  should  first 
learn  the  myths  of  the  betrayal  and  redemption,  as  the  Spirit 
which  moved  on  the  face  of  the  wide  first  waters,  taught  them 
to  the  heathen  world.  And  because,  in  this  power,  Proser- 
pine and  Deucalion  are  at  least  as  true  as  Eve  or  Noah  ;  and 
all  four  together  incomparably  truer  than  the  Darwinian  The- 
ory. And,  in  general,  the  reader  may  take  it  for  a  first  prin- 
ciple, both  in  science  and  literature,  that  the  feeblest  myth  is 

*  Reported  in  the  '  Journal  de  Geneve/  date  ascertainable,  but  of  no 
consequence, 


9 


INTRODUCTION. 


better  than  the  strongest  theory  :  the  one  recording  a  natural 
impression  on  the  imaginations  of  great  men,  and  of  unpre- 
tending multitudes ;  the  other,  an  unnatural  exertion  of  the 
wits  of  little  men,  and  half-wits  of  impertinent  multitudes. 

It  chanced,  this  morning,  as  I  sat  down  to  finish  my  preface, 
that  I  had,  for  my  introductory  reading,  the  fifth  chapter  of 
the  second  book  of  Esdras  ;  in  which,  though  often  read  care- 
fully before,  I  had  never  enough  noticed  the  curious  verse, 
"  Blood  shall  drop  out  of  wood,  and  the  stone  shall  give  his 
voice,  and  the  people  shall  be  troubled."  Of  which  verse,  so 
far  as  I  can  gather  the  meaning  from  the  context,  and  from 
the  rest  of  the  chapter,  the  intent  is,  that  in  the  time  spoken 
of  by  the  prophet,  which,  if  not  our  own,  is  one  exactly  cor- 
responding to  it,  the  deadness  of  men  to  all  noble  things  shall 
be  so  great,  that  the  sap  of  trees  shall  be  more  truly  blood, 
in  God's  sight,  than  their  hearts'  blood ;  and  the  silence  of 
men,  in  praise  of  all  noble  things,  so  great,  that  the  stones 
shall  cry  out,  in  God's  hearing,  instead  of  their  tongues  ;  and 
the  rattling  of  the  shingle  on  the  beach,  and  the  roar  of  the 
rocks  driven  by  the  torrent,  be  truer  Te  Deum  than  the  thun- 
der of  all  their  choirs.  The  writings  of  modern  scientific 
prophets  teach  us  to  anticipate  a  day  when  even  these  lower 
voices  shall  be  also  silent ;  and  leaf  cease  to  wave,  and  stream 
to  murmur,  in  the  grasp  of  an  eternal  cold.  But  it  may  be, 
that  rather  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  a  better 
peace  may  be  promised  to  the  redeemed  Jerusalem  ;  and  the 
strewn  branches,  and  low-laid  stones,  remain  at  rest  at  the 
gates  of  the  city,  built  in  unity  with  herself,  and  saying  with 
her  human  voice,  '  '  My  King  cometh." 


DEUOALIOK 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  ALPS  AND  JURA. 

{Part  of  a  Lecture  given  in  the  Museum  of  Oxford,  in  October^ 

1874.) 

1.  It  is  often  now  a  question  with  me  whether  the  persons 
who  appointed  me  to  this  Professorship  have  been  disap- 
pointed, or  pleased,  by  the  little  pains  I  have  hitherto  taken  to 
advance  the  study  of  landscape.  That  it  is  my  own  favourite 
branch  of  painting  seemed  to  me  a  reason  for  caution  in  press- 
ing it  on  your  attention  ;  and  the  range  of  art-practice  which 
I  have  hitherto  indicated  for  you,  seems  to  me  more  properly 
connected  with  the  higher  branches  of  philosophical  inquiry 
native  to  the  University.  But,  as  the  second  term  of  my  Pro- 
fessorship will  expire  next  year,  and  as  I  intend  what  remains 
of  it  to  be  chiefly  employed  in  giving  some  account  of  the  art 
of  Florence  and  Umbria,  it  seemed  to  me  proper,  before  en- 
tering on  that  higher  subject,  to  set  before  you  some  of  the 
facts  respecting  the  great  elements  of  landscape,  which  I  first 
stated  thirty  years  ago  ;  arranging  them  now  in  such  form  as 
my  farther  study  enables  me  to  give  them.  I  shall  not,  in- 
deed, be  able  to  do  this  in  a  course  of  spoken  lectures ;  nor 
do  I  wish  to  do  so.  Much  of  what  I  desire  that  you  .should 
notice  is  already  stated,  as  well  as  I  can  do  it-  in  '  Modern 
Painters  ;  •  and  it  would  be  waste  of  time  to  recast  it  in  the 
form  of  address.    But  I  should  not  feel  justified  in  merely 


10 


DEUCALION. 


reading  passages  of  my  former  writings  to  you  from  this 
chair ;  and  will  only  ask  your  audience,  here,  of  some  addi- 
tional matters,  as,  for  instance,  to-day,  of  some  observations  I 
have  been  making  recently,  in  order  to  complete  the  account 
given  in  '  Modern  Painters/  of  the  structure  and  aspect  of  the 
higher  Alps. 

2.  Not  that  their  structure — (let  me  repeat,  once  more, 
what  I  am  well  assured  you  will,  in  spite  of  my  frequent  as- 
sertion, find  difficult  to  believe,) — not  that  their  structure  is 
any  business  of  yours  or  mine,  as  students  of  practical  art. 
All  investigations  of  internal  anatomy,  whether  in  plants, 
rocks,  or  animals,  are  hurtful  to  the  finest  sensibilities  and  in- 
stincts of  form.  But  very  few  of  us  have  any  such  sensibili- 
ties to  be  injured  ;  and  that  we  may  distinguish  the  excellent 
art  which  they  have  produced,  we  must,  by  duller  processes, 
become  cognizant  of  the  facts.  The  Torso  of  the  Vatican  was 
not  wrought  by  help  from  dissection ;  yet  all  its  supreme 
qualities  could  only  be  explained  by  an  anatomical  master. 
And  these  drawings  of  the  Alps  by  Turner  are  in  landscape, 
what  the  Elgin  marbles  or  the  Torso  are  in  sculpture.  There 
is  nothing  else  approaching  them,  or  of  their  order.  Turner 
made  them  before  geology  existed  ;  but  it  is  only  by  help  of 
geology  that  I  can  prove  their  power. 

3.  I  chanced,  the  other  day,  to  take  up  a  number  of  the 
'Alpine  Journal'  (May,  1871,)  in  which  there  was  a  review  by 
Mr.  Leslie  Stephen,  of  Mr.  "Whymper's  '  Scrambles  among  the 
Alps/  in  which  it  is  said  that  "  if  the  Alpine  Club  has  done 
nothing  else,  it  has  taught  us  for  the  first  time  really  to  see  the 
mountains."  I  have  not  the  least  idea  whom  Mr.  Stephen 
means  by  'us  /  but  I  can  assure  him  that  mountains  had  been 
seen  by  several  people  before  the  nineteenth  century;  that 
both  Hesiod  and  Pindar  occasionally  had  eyes  for  Parnassus, 
Virgil  for  the  Apennines,  and  Scott  for  the  Grampians  ;  and 
without  speaking  of  Turner,  or  of  any  other  accomplished 
artist,  here  is  a  little  bit  of  old-fashioned  Swiss  drawing  of  the 
two  Mythens,  above  the  central  town  of  Switzerland,*  showing 
a  degree  of  affection,  intelligence,  and  tender  observation,  com- 

*  In  the  Educational  Series  of  my  Oxford  Schools. 


THE  ALPS  AND  JURA. 


11 


pared  to  which  our  modern  enthusiasm  is,  at  best,  childish ; 
and  commonly  also  as  shallow  as  it  is  vulgar. 

4.  Believe  me,  gentlemen,  your  power  of  seeing  mountains 
cannot  be  developed  either  by  your  vanity,  your  curiosity,  or 
your  love  of  muscular  exercise.  It  depends  on  the  cultivation 
of  the  instrument  of  sight  itself,  and  of  the  soul  that  uses  it. 
As  soon  as  you  can  see  mountains  rightly,  you  will  see  hills 
also,  and  valleys,  with  considerable  interest ;  and  a  great  many 
other  things  in  Switzerland  with  which  you  are  at  present  but 
poorly  acquainted.  The  bluntness  of  your  present  capacity 
of  ocular  sensation  is  too  surely  proved  by  your  being  unable 
to  enjoy  any  of  the  sweet  lowland  country,  which  is  incom- 
parably more  beautiful  than  the  summits  of  the  central  range, 
and  which  is  meant  to  detain  you,  also,  by  displaying — if  you 
have  patience  to  observe  them — the  loveliest  aspects  of  that 
central  range  itself,  in  its  real  majesty  of  proportion,  and 
mystery  of  power. 

5.  For,  gentlemen,  little  as  you  may  think  it,  you  can  no 
more  see  the  Alps  from  the  Col  du  Geant,  or  the  top  of  the 
Matterhorn,  than  the  pastoral  scenery  of  Switzerland  from  the 
railroad  carriage.  If  you  want  to  see  the  skeletons  of  the 
Alps,  you  may  go  to  Zermatt  or  Chamouni ;  but  if  you  want 
to  see  the  body  and  soul  of  the  Alps,  you  must  stay  awhile 
among  the  Jura,  and  in  the  Bernese  plain.  And,  in  general, 
the  way  to  see  mountains,  is  to  take  a  knapsack  and  a  walking- 
stick  ;  leave  alpenstocks  to  be  nourished  in  each  other  s  faces, 
and  between  one  another's  legs,  by  Cook's  tourists  ;  and  try 
to  find  some  companionship  in  yourself  with  yourself ;  and 
not  to  be  dependent  for  your  good  cheer  either  on  the  gossip 
of  the  table-d'hote,  or  the  hail-fellow  and  well  met,  hearty 
though  it  be,  of  even  the  pleasantest  of  celebrated  guides. 

6.  Whether,  however,  you  think  it  necessary  or  not,  for 
true  sight  of  the  Alps,  to  stay  awhile  among  the  Jura  or  in 
the  Bernese  fields,  very  certainly,  for  understanding,  or  ques- 
tioning, of  the  Alps,  it  is  wholly  necessary  to  do  so.  If  you 
look  back  to  the  lecture,  which  I  gave  as  the  fourth  of  my 
inaugural  series,  on  the  Relation  of  Art  to  Use,  you  will  see  it 
stated,  as  a  grave  matter  of  reproach  to  the  modern  traveller, 


12 


DEUCALION. 


that,  crossing  the  great  plain  of  Switzerland  nearly  every  sum* 
mer,  he  never  thinks  of  inquiring  why  it  is  a  plain,  and  why 
the  mountains  to  the  south  of  it  are  mountains. 

7.  For  solution  of  which,  as  it  appears  to  me,  not  un- 
natural inquiry,  all  of  you,  who  have  taken  any  interest  in 
geology  whatever,  must  recognize  the  importance  of  studying 
the  calcareous  ranges  which  form  the  outlying  steps  of  the 
Alps  on  the  north  ;  and  which,  in  the  lecture  just  referred  to, 
I  requested  you  to  examine  for  their  crag  scenery,  markedly 
developed  in  the  Stockhorn,  Pilate,  and  Sentis  of  Appenzell. 
The  arrangements  of  strata  in  that  great  calcareous  belt 
give  the  main  clue  to  the  mode  of  elevation  of  the  central 
chain,  the  relations  of  the  rocks  over  the  entire  breadth  of 
North  Switzerland  being,  roughly,  as  in  this  first  section : 


v 


B  C  D  E  F 

Fig.  1. 


A.  Jura  limestones,  moderately  undulating  in  the  successive 

chains  of  Jura. 

B.  Sandstones  of  the  great  Swiss  plain. 

C.  Pebble  breccias  of  the  first  ranges  of  Alpine  hills. 

D.  Chalk  formations  violently  contorted,  forming  the  rock 

scenery  of  which  I  have  just  spoken. 

E.  Metamorphic  rocks  lifted  by  the  central  Alps. 

Fo  Central  gneissic  or  granitic  mass,  narrow  in  Mont 
Blanc,  but  of  enormous  extent  southward  from  St. 
Gothard. 

8.  Now  you  may,  for  first  grasp  of  our  subject,  imagine 
these  several  formations  all  fluted  longitudinally,  like  a  Gothic 
moulding,  thus  forming  a  series  of  ridges  and  valleys  parallel 
to  the  Alps  ; — such  as  the  valley  of  Chamouni,  the  Simmen- 
thal,  and  the  great  vale  containing  the  lakes  of  Thun  and 
Brienz  ;  to  which  longitudinal  valleys  we  now  obtain  access 
through  gorges  or  defiles,  for  the  most  part  cut  across  the 


THE  ALPS  AND  JURA. 


13 


formations,  and  giving  geological  sections  all  the  way  from 
the  centres  of  the  Alps  to  the  plain. 

9.  Get  this  first  notion  very  simply  and  massively  set  in 
your  thoughts.  Longitudinal  valleys,  parallel  with  the  beds  ; 
more  or  less  extended  and  soft  in  contour,  and  often  occupied 
by  lakes.  Cross  defiles  like  that  of  Lauterbrunnen,  the  Via 
Mala,  and  the  defile  of  Gondo  ;  cut  down  across  the  beds,  and 
traversed  by  torrents,  but  rarely  occupied  by  lakes.  The  bay 
of  Uri  is  the  only  perfect  instance  in  Switzerland  of  a  portion 
of  lake  in  a  diametrically  cross  valley  ;  the  crossing  arms  of 
the  lake  Lucerne  mark  the  exactly  rectangular  schism  of  the 
forces ;  the  main  direction  being  that  of  the  lakes  of  Kuss- 
nacht  and  Alpnacht,  carried  on  through  those  of  Sarnen  and 
Lungern,  and  across  the  low  intervening  ridge  of  the  Brunig, 
joining  the  depressions  of  Brienz  and  Thun ;  of  which  last  lake 
the  lower  reach,  however,  is  obliquely  transverse.  Forty 
miles  of  the  Lago  Maggiore,  or,  including  the  portion  of  lake 
now  filled  by  delta,  fifty,  from  Baveno  to  Bellinzona,  are  in 
the  longitudinal  valley  which  continues  to  the  St.  Bernardino  ; 
and  the  entire  length  of  the  lake  of  Como  is  the  continuation 
of  the  great  lateral  Valtelline. 

10.  Now  such  structure  of  parallel  valley  and  cross  defile 
would  be  intelligible  enough,  if  it  were  confined  to  the  lateral 
stratified  ranges.  But,  as  you  are  well  aware,  the  two  most 
notable  longitudinal  valleys  in  the  Alps  are  cut  right  along 
the  heart  of  their  central  gneissic  chain ;  how  much  by 
dividing  forces  in  the  rocks  themselves,  and  how  much  by 
the  sources  of  the  two  great  rivers  of  France  and  Germany, 
there  will  yet  be  debate  among  geologists  for  many  a  day  to 
come.  For  us,  let  the  facts  at  least  be  clear ;  the  questions 
definite  ;  but  all  debate  declined. 

11.  All  lakes  among  the  Alps,  except  the  little  green  pool 
of  Lungern,  and  a  few  small  tarns  on  the  cols,  are  quite  at 
the  bottom  of  the  hills.  We  are  so  accustomed  to  this  con- 
dition, that  we  never  think  of  it  as  singular.  But  in  its  un- 
exceptional character,  it  is  extremely  singular.  How  comes 
it  to  pass,  think  you,  that  through  all  that  wilderness  of 
mountain — raised,  in  the  main  mass  of  it,  some  six  thousand 


14 


DEUCALION. 


feet  above  the  sea,  so  that  there  is  no  col  lower, — there  is 
not  a  single  hollow  shut  in  so  as  to  stay  the  streams  of  it ; — 
that  no  valley  is  ever  barred  across  by  a  ridge  which  can  keep 
so  much  as  ten  feet  of  water  calm  above  it, — that  every  such 
ridge  that  once  existed  has  been  cut  through,  so  as  to  let  the 
stream  escape? 

I  put  this  question  in  passing ;  we  will  return  to  it :  let 
me  first  ask  you  to  examine  the  broad  relations  of  the  beds 
that  are  cut  through.  My  typical  section,  Fig.  1,  is  strin- 
gently simple  ;  it  must  be  much  enriched  and  modified  to 
fit  any  locality  ;  but  in  the  main  conditions  it  is  applicable 
to  the  entire  north  side  of  the  Alps,  from  Annecy  to  St.  Gall. 

12.  You  have  first — (I  read  from  left  to  right,  or  north  to 
south,  being  obliged  to  do  so  because  all  Studer's  sections 
are  thus  taken) — this  mass  of  yellow  limestone,  called  of  the 
Jura,  from  its  development  in  that  chain ;  but  forming  an 
immense  tract  of  the  surface  of  France  also ;  and,  as  you 
well  know,  this  our  city  of  Oxford  stands  on  one  of  its  softer 
beds,  and  is  chiefly  built  of  it.  We  may,  I  think,  without 
entering  any  forbidden  region  of  theory,  assume  that  this 
Jura  limestone  extends  under  the  plain  of  Switzerland,  to 
reappear  where  we  again  find  it  on  the  flanks  of  the  great 
range  ;  where  on  the  top  of  it  the  beds  drawn  with  fine  lines 
in  my  section  correspond  generally  to  the  date  of  our  English 
chalk,  though  they  are  far  from  white  in  the  Alps.  Curiously 
adjusted  to  the  chalk  beds,  rather  than  superimposed,  we 
have  these  notable  masses  of  pebble  breccia,  wThich  bound 
the  sandstones  of  the  great  Swiss  plain. 

13.  I  have  drawn  that  portion  of  the  section  a  little  more 
boldly  in  projection,  to  remind  you  of  the  great  Eigi  prom- 
ontory; and  of  the  main  direction  of  the  slope  of  these 
beds,  with  their  backs  to  the  Alps,  and  their  escarpments  to 
the  plain.  Both  these  points  are  of  curious  importance. 
Have  you  ever  considered  the  reason  of  the  fall  of  the  Koss- 
berg,  the  most  impressive  physical  catastrophe  that  has 
chanced  in  Europe  in  modern  times?  Few  mountains  in 
Switzerland  looked  safer.  It  was  of  inconsiderable  height, 
of  very  moderate  steepness ;  but  its  beds  lay  perfectly 


THE  ALPS  AND  JURA. 


15 


straight,  and  that  over  so  large  a  space,  that  when  the  clay 
between  two  of  them  got  softened  by  rain,  one  slipped 
off  the  other.  Now  this  mathematical  straightness  is 
characteristic  of  these  pebble  beds, — not  universal  in  them, 
but  characterestic  of  them,  and  of  them  only.  The  lime- 
stones underneath  are  usually,  as  you  see  in  this  section, 
violently  contorted ;  if  not  contorted,  they  are  at  least  so 
irregular  in  the  bedding  that  you  can't  in  general  find  a  sur- 
face of  a  furlong  square  which  will  not  either  by  its  depres- 
sion, or  projection,  catch  and  notch  into  the  one  above  it,  so 
as  to  prevent  its  sliding.  Also  the  limestones  are  continually 
torn,  or  split,  across  the  beds.  But  the  breccias,  though  in 
many  places  they  suffer  decomposition,  are  curiously  free 
from  fissures  and  rents.    The  hillside  remains  unshattered 


Fig.  2. 


unless  it  comes  down  in  a  mass.  But  their  straight  bed- 
ding, as  compared  with  the  twisted  limestone,  is  the  notablest 
point  in  them  ;  and  see  how  very  many  difficulties  are  gath- 
ered in  the  difference.  The  crushed  masses  of  limestone  are 
supposed  to  have  been  wrinkled  together  by  the  lateral  thrust 
of  the  emerging  protogines  ;  and  these  pebble  beds  to  have 
been  raised  into  a  gable,  or  broken  into  a  series  of  colossal 
fragments  set  over  each  other  like  tiles,  all  along  the  south 
shore  of  the  Swiss  plain,  by  the  same  lateral  thrust ;  nay, 
"though  we  may  leave  in  doubt,"  says  Studer,  "by  what 
cause  the  folded  forms  of  the  Jura  may  have  been  pushed 
back,  there  yet  remains  to  us,  for  the  explanation  of  this 
gabled  form  of  the  Nagelfluh,  hardly  any  other  choice  than 
to  adopt  the  opinion  of  a  lateral  pressure  communicated  by 
the  Alps  to  the  tertiary  bottom.  We  have  often  found  in  the 
outer  limestone  chains  themselves  clear  evidence  of  a  pressure 


16 


DEUCALION. 


going  out  from  the  inner  Alps  ;  and  the  pushing  of  the  oldei 
over  the  younger  formations  along  the  flank  of  the  limestone 
hills,  leaves  hardly  any  other  opinion  possible." 

14.  But  if  these  pebble  beds  have  been  heaved  up  by  the 
same  lateral  thrust,  how  is  that  a  force  which  can  bend  lime- 
stone like  leather,  cannot  crash  anywhere,  these  pebble  beds 
into  the  least  confusion  ?  Consider  the  scale  on  which  opera- 
tions are  carried  on,  and  the  forces  of  which  this  sentence  of 
Studer's  so  serenely  assumes  the  action.  Here,  A,  Fig.  2,  is 
his  section  of  the  High  Sentis  of  Appenzell,  of  which  the 
height  is  at  least,  in  the  parts  thus  bent,  6,000  feet.  And 
here,  B,  Fig.  2,  are  some  sheets  of  paper,  crushed  together  by 
my  friend  Mr.  Henry  Woodward,  from  a  length  of  four 
inches,  into  what  you  see ;  the  High  Sentis,  exactly  resem- 
bles these,  and  seems  to  consist  of  four  miles  of  limestone 
similarly  crushed  into  one.  Seems,  I  say,  remember  :  I  never 
theorize,  I  give  you  the  facts  only.  The  beds  do  go  up  and 
down  like  this :  that  they  have  been  crushed  together,  it  is 
Mr.  Studer  who  says  or  supposes  ;  I  can't  go  so  far ;  never- 
theless, I  admit  that  he  appears  to  be  right,  and  I  believe 
he  is  right ;  only  don't  be  positive  about  it,  and  don't  debate  ; 
but  think  of  it,  and  examine. 

15.  Suppose,  then,  you  have  a  bed  of  rocks,  four  miles  long 
by  a  mile  thick,  to  be  crushed  laterally  into  the  space  of  a 
mile.  It  may  be  done,  supposing  the  mass  not  to  be  reduci- 
ble in  bulk,  in  two  ways :  you  may  either  crush  it  up  into 
folds,  as  I  crush  these  pieces  of  cloth ;  or  you  may  break  it 
into  bits,  and  shuffle  them  over  one  another  like  cards.  Now, 
Mr.  Studer,  and  our  geologists  in  general,  believe  the  first  of 
these  operations  to  have  taken  place  with  the  limestones,  and 
the  second  with  the  breccias.  They  are,  as  I  say,  very  proba- 
bly right :  only  just  consider  what  is  involved  in  the  notion  of 
shuflling  up  your  breccias  like  a  pack  of  cards,  and  folding  up 
your  limestones  like  a  length  of  silk  which  a  dexterous 
draper's  shopman  is  persuading  a  young  lady  to  put  ten  times 
as  much  of  into  her  gown  as  is  wanted  for  it !  Think,  I  say, 
what  is  involved  in  the  notion.  That  you  may  shuffle  your 
pebble  beds,  you  must  have  them  strong  and  well  knit.  Thes 


THE  ALPS  AND  JURA. 


17 


what  sort  of  force  must  you  have  to  break  and  to  heave  them  ? 
Do  but  try  the  force  required  to  break  so  much  as  a  Captain's 
biscuit  by  a  slow  push, — it  is  the  illustration  I  gave  long  ago 
in  'Modern  Painters/ — and  then  fancy  the  results  of  such 
fracturing  power  on  a  bed  of  conglomerate  two  thousand  feet 
thick  !  And  here  is  indeed  a  very  charming  bookbinder's 
pattern,  produced  by  my  friend  in  crushed  paper,  and  the 
length  of  silk  produces  lovely  results  in  these  arrangements  a 
la  Paul  Veronese.  But  when  you  have  the  cliffs  of  the  Dia- 
blerets,  or  the  Dent  du  Midi  of  Bex,  to  deal  with  ;  and  have 
to  fold  them  up  similarly,  do  you  mean  to  fold  your  two-thou- 
sand-fee t-thick  Jura  limestone  in  a  brittle  state,  or  a  ductile 
one  ?  If  brittle,  won't  it  smash  ?  If  ductile,  won't  it  squeeze  ? 
Yet  your  whole  mountain  theory  proceeds  on  the  assumption 
that  it  has  neither  broken  nor  been  compressed, — more  than 
the  folds  of  silk  or  coils  of  paper. 

16.  You  most  of  you  have  been  upon  the  lake  of  Thun. 
You  have  been  at  least  carried  up  and  down  it  in  a  steamer  ; 
you  smoked  over  it  meanwhile,  and  countenanced  the  French- 
men and  Germans  who  were  spitting  into  it.  The  steamer 
carried  you  all  the  length  of  it  in  half  an  hour  ;  you  looked 
at  the  Jungfrau  and  Blumlis  Alp,  probably,  for  five  minutes, 
if  it  was  a  fine  day  ;  then  took  to  your  papers,  and  read  the 
last  news  of  the  Tichborne  case  ;  then  you  lounged  about, — 
thought  it  a  nuisance  that  the  steamer  couldn't  take  you  up 
in  twenty  minutes,  instead  of  half  an  hour  ;  then  you  got 
into  a  row  about  your  luggage  at  Neuhaus  ;  and  all  that  you 
recollect  afterwards  is  that  lunch  where  you  met  the  so-and- 
sos  at  Interlaken. 

17.  Well,  we  used  to  do  it  differently  in  old  times.  Look 
here  ; — this  *  is  the  quay  at  Neuhaus,  with  its  then  travelling 
arrangements.  A  flat-bottomed  boat,  little  better  than  a 
punt ; — a  fat  Swiss  girl  with  her  schatz,  or  her  father,  to  row 
it  ;  oars  made  of  a  board  tied  to  a  pole  :  and  so  one  paddled 
along  over  the  clear  water,  in  and  out  among  the  bays  and 
villages,  for  half  a  day  of  pleasant  life.    And  one  knew  some* 


*  Turner's  first  study  of  the  Lake  of  Thun,  1803. 


18 


DEUCALION. 


thing  about  the  lake,  ever  after,  if  one  had  a  head  with  eye* 
in  it. 

It  is  just  possible,  however,  that  some  of  you  also  who  have 
been  learning  to  see  the  Alps  in  your  new  fashion,  may  re- 
member that  the  north  side  of  the  lake  of  Thun  consists,  first, 
next  Thun,  of  a  series  of  low  green  hills,  with  brown  cliffs 
here  and  there  among  the  pines  ;  and  that  above  them,  just 
after  passing  Oberhofen,  rears  up  suddenly  a  great  precipice, 
with  its  flank  to  the  lake,  and  the  winding  wall  of  it  prolonged 
upwards,  far  to  the  north,  losing  itself,  if  the  day  is  fine,  in 
faint  tawny  crests  of  rock  among  the  distant  blue  ;  and  if 
stormy,  in  wreaths  of  more  than  commonly  torn  and  fantastic 
cloud. 

18.  To  form  the  top  of  that  peak  on  the  north  side  of  the 
lake  of  Thun,  you  have  to  imagine  forces  which  have  taken — 
say,  the  whole  of  the  North  Foreland,  with  Dover  castle  on  it, 
and  have  folded  it  upside-down  on  the  top  of  the  parade  at 
Margate, — then  swept  up  Whitstable  oyster-beds,  and  put 
them  on  the  bottom  of  Dover  cliffs  turned  topsy-turvy, — and 
then  wrung  the  whole  round  like  a  wet  towel,  till  it  is  as  close 
and  hard  as  it  will  knit ; — such  is  the  beginning  of  the  opera- 
tions which  have  produced  the  lateral  masses  of  the  higher 
Alps. 

19.  Next  to  these,  you  have  the  great  sculptural  force, 
which  gave  them,  approximately,  their  present  forms, — which 
let  out  all  the  lake  waters  above  a  certain  level, — -which  cut 
the  gorge  of  the  Devil's  Bridge — of  the  Via  Mala — of  Gondo 
— of  the  valley  of  Cluse  ; — which  let  out  the  Khone  at  St. 
Maurice,  the  Ticino  at  Faido,  and  shaped  all  the  vast  ravines 
which  make  the  flanks  of  the  great  mountains  awful. 

20.  Then,  finally,  you  have  the  rain,  torrent,  and  glacier  of 
human  days. 

Of  whose  action,  briefly,  this  is  the  sum. 

Over  all  the  high  surfaces,  disintegration — melting  away — 
diffusion — loss  of  height  and  terror. 

In  the  ravines, — whether  occupied  by  torrent  or  glacier,— 
gradual  incumbrance  by  materials  falling  from  above  ;  chok- 
ing up  of  their  beds  by  silt — by  moraine — by  continual  ad 


THE  ALPS  AND  JURA. 


19 


vances  of  washed  slopes  on  their  flanks  :  here  and  there,  only, 
exceptional  conditions  occur  in  which  a  river  is  still  continu- 
ing feebly  the  ancient  cleaving  action,  and  cutting  its  ravine 
deeper,  or  cutting  it  back. 

Fix  this  idea  thoroughly  in  your  minds.  Since  the  valley 
of  Lauterbrunnen  existed  for  human  eyes, — or  its  pastures 
for  the  food  of  flocks, — it  has  not  been  cut  deeper,  but  par- 
tially filled  up  by  its  torrents.  The  town  of  Interlachen 
stands  where  there  was  once  lake, — and  the  long  slopes  of 
grassy  sward  on  the  north  of  it,  stand  where  once  was  preci- 
pice. Slowly — almost  with  infinite  slowness, — the  declining 
and  encumbering  action  takes  place  ;  but  incessantly,  and, — 
as  far  as  our  experience  reaches, — irredeemably. 

21.  Now  I  have  touched  in  this  lecture  briefly  on  the 
theories  respecting  the  elevation  of  the  Alps,  because  I  want  to 
show  you  how  uncertain  and  unsatisfactory  they  still  remain. 
For  our  own  work,  we  must  waste  no  time  on  them  ;  we  must 
begin  where  all  theory  ceases  ;  and  where  observation  becomes 
possible, — that  is  to  say,  with  the  forms  which  the  Alps  have 
actually  retained  while  men  have  dwelt  among  them,  and  on 
which  we  can  trace  the  progress,  or  the  power,  of  existing 
conditions  of  minor  change.  Such  change  has  lately  affected, 
and  with  grievous  deterioration,  the  outline  of  the  highest 
mountain  of  Europe,  with  that  of  its  beautiful  supporting 
buttresses, — the  aiguille  de  Bionassay.  I  do  not  care,  and  I 
want  you  not  to  care, — how  crest  or  aiguille  was  lifted,  or 
where  its  materials  came  from,  or  how  much  bigger  it  was 
once.  I  do  care  that  you  should  know,  and  I  will  endeavour 
in  these  following  pages  securely  to  show  you,  in  what  strength 
and  beauty  of  form  it  has  actually  stood  since  man  was  man, 
and  what  subtle  modifications  of  aspect,  or  majesties  of  con- 
tour, it  still  suffers  from  the  rains  that  beat  upon  it,  or  owes 
to  the  snows  that  rest. 


20 


DEUCALION. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    THREE    2E  R  A  S  # 

(Part  of  a  Lecture  given  at  the  London  Institution  in  March 
1875,  with  added  pieces  from  Lectures  in  Oxford.) 

1.  We  are  now,  so  many  of  us,  some  restlessly  and  some 
wisely,  in  the  habit  of  spending  our  evenings  abroad,  that  I 
do  not  know  if  any  book  exists  to  occupy  the  jDlace  of  one 
classical  in  my  early  clays,  called  'Evenings  at  Home.'  It 
contained,  among  many  wTell-written  lessons,  one,  under  the 
title  of  'Eyes  and  No  Eyes,'  which  some  of  my  older  hearers 
may  remember,  and  which  I  should  myself  be  sorry  to  forget. 
For  if  such  a  book  were  to  be  written  in  these  days,  I  suppose 
the  title  and  the  moral  of  the  story  would  both  be  changed  ; 
and,  instead  of  6  Eyes  and  No  Eyes/  the  tale  would  be  called 
*  Microscopes  and  No  Microscopes.'  Fori  observe  that  the 
prevailing  habit  of  learned  men  is  now  to  take  interest  only 
in  objects  which  .  cannot  be  seen  without  the  aid  of  instru- 
ments ;  and  I  believe  many  of  my  learned  friends,  if  they 
were  permitted  to  make  themselves,  to  their  own  liking,  in- 
stead of  suffering  the  slow  process  of  selective  development, 
would  give  themselves  heads  like  wasps',  with  three  micro- 
scopic eyes  in  the  middle  of  their  foreheads,  and  two  ears  at 
the  ends  of  their  antennae. 

2.  It  is  the  fashion,  in  modern  days,  to  say  that  Pope  was 
no  poet.  Probably  our  schoolboys  also,  think  Horace  none. 
They  have  each,  nevertheless,  built  for  themselves  a  monu- 
ment of  enduring  wisdom  ;  and  all  the  temptations  and  errors 
of  our  own  day,  in  the  narrow  sphere  of  lenticular  curiosity, 
were  anticipated  by  Pope,  and  rebuked,  in  one  couplet : 

"  Why  has  not  man  a  microscopic  eye  ? 
For  this  plain  reason,-— Man  is  not  a  fly." 

While  the  nobler  following  lines, 

il  Say,  what  avail,  were  finer  optics  given 
To  inspect  a  mite,  not  comprehend  the  heaven  ? 17 


THE  THREE  ^JRAS. 


21 


only  fall  short  of  the  truth  of  our  present  clulness,  in  that  wo 
inspect  heaven  itself,  without  understanding  it. 

3.  In  old  times,  then,  it  was  not  thought  necessary  for 
human  creatures  to  know  either  the  infinitely  little,  or  the 
infinitely  distant  ;  nor  either  to  see,  or  feel,  by  artificial  help, 
Old  English  people  used  to  say  they  perceived  things  with 
their  five — or  it  may  be,  in  a  hurry,  they  would  say,  their 
seven,  senses ;  and  that  word  '  sense '  became,  and  for  ever 
must  remain,  classical  English,  derived  from  classical  Latin, 
in  both  languages  signifying,  not  only  the  bodily  sense,  but 
the  moral  one.  If  a  man  heard,  saw,  and  tasted  rightly,  we 
used  to  say  he  had  his  bodily  senses  perfect.  If  he  judged, 
wished,  and  felt  rightly,  we  used  to  say  he  had  his  moral 
senses  perfect,  or  was  a  man  £  in  his  senses/  And  we  were 
then  able  to  speak  precise  truth  respecting  both  matter  and 
morality  ;  and  if  we  heard  any  one  saying  clearly  absurd 
things, — as,  for  instance,  that  human  creatures  were  automata, 
■ — we  used  to  say  they  were  out  of  their  6  senses/  and  were 
talking  non-c  sense/ 

"Whereas,  in  modern  days,  by  substituting  analysis  for  sense 
in  morals,  and  chemistry  for  sense  in  matter,  we  have  literally 
blinded  ourselves  to  the  essential  qualities  of  both  matter  and 
morals  ;  and  are  entirely  incapable  of  understanding  what  is 
meant  by  the  description  given  us,  in  a  book  we  once  honoured, 
of  men  who  "  by  reason  of  use,  have  their  senses  exercised  to 
discern  both  good  and  evil." 

4.  And  still,  with  increasingly  evil  results  to  all  of  us,  the 
separation  is  every  day  widening  between  the  man  of  science 
and  the  artist — in  that,  whether  painter,  sculptor,  or  musician, 
the  latter  is  pre-eminently  a  person  who  sees  with  his  Eyes, 
hears  with  his  Ears,  and  labours  with  his  Body,  as  God 
constructed  them  ;  and  who,  in  using  instruments,  limits  him- 
self to  those  which  convey  or  communicate  his  human  power, 
while  he  rejects  all  that  increase  it.  Titian  would  refuse  to 
quicken  his  touch  by  electricity  ;  and  Michael  Angelo  to  sub- 
stitute a  steam  hammer  for  his  mallet.  Such  men  not  only  do 
not  desire,  they  imperatively  and  scornfully  refuse,  either  the 
force3  or  the  information,  which  are  beyond  the  scope  of  the 


22 


DEUCALION. 


flesh  and  the  senses  of  humanity.  And  it  is  at  once  the  wis< 
dom,  the  honour,  and  the  peace,  of  the  Masters  both  of  paint- 
ing and  literature,  that  they  rejoice  in  the  strength,  and  rest 
in  the  knowledge,  which  are  granted  to  active  and  disciplined 
life  ;  and  are  more  and  more  sure,  every  day,  of  the  wisdom  of 
the  Maker  in  setting  such  measure  to  their  being  ;  and  more 
and  more  satisfied,  in  their  sight  and  their  audit  of  Nature, 
that  "  the  hearing  ear,  and  the  seeing  eye, — the  Lord  hath 
made  even  both  of  them." 

5.  This  evening,  therefore,  I  venture  to  address  you  speak- 
ing limitedly  as  an  artist ;  but,  therefore,  I  think,  with  a  defi- 
nite advantage  in  having  been  trained  to  the  use  of  my  eyes 
and  senses,  as  my  chief  means  of  observation  :  and  I  shall  try 
to  show  you  things  which  wTith  your  own  eyes  you  may  any 
day  see,  and  with  your  own  common  sense,  if  it  please  you 
to  trust  it,  account  for. 

Things  wdiich  you  may  see,  I  repeat  ;  not  which  you  might 
perhaps  have  seen,  if  you  had  been  born  when  you  were  not 
born  ;  nor  which  you  might  perhaps  in  future  see,  if  you  were 
alive  when  you  will  be  dead.  But  what,  in  the  span  of  earth, 
and  space  of  time,  allotted  to  you,  may  be  seen  with  your  hu- 
man eyes,  if  you  learn  to  use  them. 

And  this  limitation  has,  with  respect  to  our  present  subject, 
a  particular  significance,  which  I  must  explain  to  you  before 
entering  on  the  main  matter  of  it. 

G.  No  one  more  honours  the  past  labour — no  one  more  re- 
grets the  present  rest — of  the  late  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  than  his 
scholar,  who  speaks  to  you.  But  his  great  theorem  of  the 
constancy  and  power  of  existing  phenomena  was  only  in  meas- 
ure proved, — in  a  larger  measure  disputable  ;  and  in  the  broad- 
est bearings  of  it,  entirely  false.  Pardon  me  if  I  spend  no 
time  in  qualifications,  references,  or  apologies,  but  state  clearly 
to  you  what  Sir  Charles  LyelFs  work  itself  enables  us  now  to 
perceive  of  the  truth.  There  are,  broadly,  three  great  demon- 
strable periods  of  the  Earth's  history.  That  in  which  it  was 
crystallized ;  that  in  which  it  was  sculptured  ;  and  that  in 
which  it  is  now  being  unsculptured,  or  deformed.  These  three 
periods  interlace  with  each  other,  and  gradate  into  each  other 


THE  THREE  JERAS. 


23 


^-as  the  periods  of  human  life  do.  Something  dies  in  the 
child  on  the  day  that  it  is  born, — something  is  born  in  the 
man  on  the  day  that  he  dies  :  nevertheless,  his  life  is  broadly 
divided  into  youth,  strength,  and  decrepitude.  In  such  clear 
sense,  the  Earth  has  its  three  ages  :  of  their  length  we  know 
as  yet  nothing,  except  that  it  has  been  greater  than  any  man 
had  imagined. 

7.  (THE  FIEST  PERIOD.) — But  there  was  a  period,  or  a 
succession  of  periods,  during  which  the  rocks  which  are  now 
hard  were  soft ;  and  in  which,  out  of  entirely  different  posi- 
tions, and  under  entirely  different  conditions  from  any  now 
existing  or  describable,  the  masses,  of  which  the  mountains 
you  now  see  are  made,  were  lifted,  and  hardened,  in  the  posi- 
tions they  now  occupy,  though  in  what  forms  we  can  now  no 
more  guess  than  we  can  the  original  outline  of  the  block  from 
the  existing  statue. 

8.  (THE  SECOND  PERIOD. ) — Then,  out  of  those  raised 
masses,  more  or  less  in  lines  compliant  with  their  crystalline 
structure,  the  mountains  we  nowr  see  were  hewn,  or  worn,  dur- 
ing the  second  period,  by  forces  for  the  most  part  differing 
both  in  mode  and  violence  from  any  now  in  operation,  but  the 
result  of  which  was  to  bring  the  surface  of  the  earth  into  a 
form  approximately  that  which  it  has  possessed  as  far  as  the 
records  of  human  history  extend. — The  Ararat  of  Moses's  time, 
the  Olympus  and  Ida  of  Homer's,  are  practically  the  same 
mountains  now,  that  they  were  then. 

9.  (THE  THIRD  PERIOD.)— Not,  however,  without  some 
calculable,  though  superficial,  change,  and  that  change,  one  of 
steady  degradation.  For  in  the  third,  or  historical  period,  the 
valleys  excavated  in  the  second  period  are  being  filled  up,  and 
the  mountains,  hewn  in  the  second  period,  worn  or  ruined 
down.  In  the  second  sera  the  valley  of  the  Rhone  was  being 
cut  deeper  every  day  ;  now  it  is  every  day  being  filled  up  with 
gravel.  In  the  second  sera,  the  scars  of  Derbyshire  and  York- 
shire were  cut  white  and  steep  ;  now  they  are  being  darkened 
by  vegetation,  and  crumbled  by  frost.  You  cannot,  I  repeat, 
separate  the  periods  with  precision  ;  but,  in  their  characters, 
they  are  as  distinct  as  youth  from  age. 


24 


DEUCALION. 


10.  The  features  of  mountain  form,  to  which  during  my 
own  life  I  have  exclusively  directed  my  study,  and  which  I  en- 
deavour to  bring  before  the  notice  of  my  pupils  in  Oxford, 
are  exclusively  those  produced  by  existing  forces,  on  mount- 
ains whose  form  and  substance  have  not  been  materially 
changed  during  the  historical  period. 

For  familiar  example,  take  the  rocks  of  Edinburgh  castle, 
and  Salisbury  Craig.  Of  course  we  know  that  they  are  both 
basaltic,  and  must  once  have  been  hot.  But  I  do  not  myself 
care  in  the  least  what  happened  to  them  till  they  were  cold.* 
They  have  both  been  cold  at  least  longer  than  young  Harry 
Percy's  spur  ;  and,  since  they  were  last  brought  out  of  the 
oven,  in  the  shape  which,  approximately,  they  still  retain,  with 
a  hollow  beneath  one  of  them,  which,  for  aught  I  know,  or 
care,  may  have  been  cut  by  a  glacier  out  of  white-hot  lava,  but 

*  More  curious  persons,  who  are  interested  in  their  earlier  condition, 
will  find  a  valuable  paper  by  Mr.  J.  W.  Judd,  in  the  quarterly  '  Journal 
of  the  Geological  Society,' May,  1875  ;  very  successfully,  it  seems  tome, 
demolishing  all  former  theories  on  the  subject,  which  the  author  thus 
sums,  at  p.  135. 

"The  series  of  events  which  we  are  thus  required  to  believe  took 
place  in  this  district  is  therefore  as  follows  : — 

A.  At  the  point  where  the  Arthur's  Seat  group  of  hills  now  rises,  a 
series  of  volcanic  eruptions  occurred  during  the  Lower  Calciferous  Sand- 
stone period,  commencing  with  the  emission  of  basaltic  lavas,  and  end- 
ing with  that  of  porphyrites. 

B.  An  interval  of  such  enormous  duration  supervened  as  to  admit 
of— 

a.  The  deposition  of  at  least  3,000  feet  of  Carboniferous  strata. 

b.  The  bending  of  all  the  rocks  of  the  district  into  a  series  of  great 

anticlinal  and  synclinal  folds. 

c.  The  removal  of  every  vestige  of  the  3,000  feet  of  strata  by  de- 

nudation. 

C.  The  outburst,  after  this  vast  interval,  of  a  second  series  of  volcanic 
eruptions  upon  the  identical  site  of  the  former  ones,  presenting  in  its 
succession  of  events  precisely  the  same  sequence,  and  resulting  in  the 
production  of  rocks  of  totally  itndistinguishable  character. 

Are  we  not  entitled  to  regard  the  demand  for  the  admission  of  such  a 
series  of  extraordinary  accidents  as  evidence  of  the  antecedent  improb- 
ability of  the  theory  ?  And  when  we  find  that  all  attempts  to  suggest  a 
period  for  the  supposed  second  series  of  outburstshave  successively  failed, 
do  not  the  difficulties  of  the  li vpothesir;  appear  to  be  overwhelming  ?  " 


THE  THREE  uERAS. 


assuredly  at  last  got  itself  filled  with  pure,  sweet,  cold  water, 
and  called,  in  Lowland  Scotch,  the  '  Nor'  Loch ; ' — since  the 
time,  I  say,  when  the  basalt,  above,  became  hard,  and  the  lake 
beneath,  drinkable,  I  am  desirous  to  examine  with  you  what 
effect  the  winter's  frost  and  summer's  rain  have  had  on  the 
crags  and  their  hollows ;  how  far  the  £  Kittle  nine  steps  '  under 
the  castle- walls,  or  the  firm  slope  and  cresting  precipice  above 
the  dark  ghost  of  Holyrood,  are  enduring  or  departing  forms  ; 
and  how  long,  unless  the  young  engineers  of  New  Edinburgh 
blast  the  incumbrance  away,  the  departing  mists  of  dawn  may 
each  day  reveal  the  form,  unchanged,  of  the  Eock  which  was 
the  strength  of  their  Fathers. 

11.  Unchanged,  or  so  softly  modified  that  eye  can  scarcely 
Irace,  or  memory  measure,  the  work  of  time.  Have  you  ever 
practically  endeavoured  to  estimate  the  alterations  of  form  in 
any  hard  rocks  known  to  you,  during  the  course  of  }^our  own 
lives  ?  You  have  all  heard,  a  thousand  times  over,  the  com- 
mon statements  of  the  school  of  Sir  Charles  Lyell.  You  know 
all  about  alluviums  and  gravels ;  and  what  torrents  do,  and 
what  rivers  do,  and  what  ocean  currents  do  ;  and  when  you 
see  a  muddy  stream  coming  down  in  a  flood,  or  even  the  yel- 
low gutter  more  than  usually  rampant  by  the  roadside  in  a 
thunder  shower,  you  think,  of  course,  that  all  the  forms  of  the 
Alps  are  to  be  accounted  for  by  aqueous  erosion,  and  that 
it's  a  wonder  any  Alps  are  still  left.  Well — any  of  you  who 
have  fished  the  pools  of  Scottish  or  a  Welsh  stream, — have 
you  ever  thought  of  asking  an  old  keeper  how  much  deeper 
they  had  got  to  be,  while  his  hairs  were  silvering  ?  Do  you 
suppose  he  wouldn't  laugh  in  your  face  ? 

There  are  some  sitting  here,  I  think,  who  must  have  them- 
selves fished,  for  more  than  one  summer,  years  ago,  in  Dove  or 
Derwent, — in  Tweed  or  Teviot.  Can  any  of  you  tell  me  a  single 
pool,  even  in  the  limestone  or  sandstone,  where  you  could 
spear  a  salmon  then,  and  can't  reach  one  now — (providing 
always  the  wretches  of  manufacturers  have  left  you  one  to  be 
speared,  or  water  that  you  can  see  through)  ?  Do  you  know 
so  much  as  a  single  rivulet  of  clear  water  which  has  cut  away 
a  visible  half-inch  of  Highland  rock,  to  your  own  knowledge, 


DEUCALION. 


in  your  own  day  ?  You  have  seen  whole  banks,  whole  fields 
washed  away  ;  and  the  rocks  exposed  beneath  ?  Yes,  of  course 
you  have  ;  and  so  have  L  The  rains  wash  the  loose  earth 
about  everywhere,  in  any  masses  that  they  chance  to  catch — 
loose  earth,  or  loose  rock.  But  yonder  little  rifted  well  in  the 
native  whinstone  by  the  sheepfold, — did  the  gray  shepherd 
not  put  his  lips  to  the  same  ledge  of  it,  to  drink — when  he 
and  you  were  boys  together  ? 

12.  '  But  Niagara,  and  the  Delta  of  the  Ganges — and — all 
the  rest  of  it  ? '  Well,  of  course  a  monstrous  mass  of  conti- 
nental drainage,  like  Niagara,  trill  wash  down  a  piece  of  crag 
once  in  fifty  years,  (but  only  that,  if  it's  rotten  below  ;)  and 
tropical  rains  will  eat  the  end  off  a  bank  of  slime  and  alliga- 
tors,— and  spread  it  out  lower  down.  But  does  any  Scotchman 
know  a  change  in  the  Fall  of  Fyers  ? — any  Yorkshireman  in 
the  Force  of  Tees  ? 

Except  of  choking  up,  it  may  be — not  of  cutting  down.  It 
is  true,  at  the  side  of  every  stream  you  see  the  places  in  the 
rocks  hollowed  by  the  eddies.  I  suppose  the  eddies  go  on  at 
their  own  rate.  But  I  simply  ask,  Has  any  human  being  ever 
known  a  stream,  in  hard  rock,  cut  its  bed  an  inch  deeper  down 
at  a  given  spot  ? 

13.  I  can  look  back,  myself,  now  pretty  nearly,  I  am  sorry 
to  say,  half  a  century,  and  recognize  no  change  whatever  in 
any  of  my  old  dabbling-places  ;  but  that  some  stones  are 
mossier,  and  the  streams  usually  dirtier, — the  Derwent  above 
Keswick,  for  example. 

1  But  denudation  does  go  on,  somehow  :  one  sees  the  whole 
glen  is  shaped  by  it  ? '  Yes,  but  not  by  the  stream.  The  stream 
only  sweeps  down  the  loose  stones  ;  frost  and  chemical  change 
are  the  powers  that  loosen  them.  I  have  indeed  not  known 
one  of  my  dabbling-places  changed  in  fifty  years.  But  I  have 
known  the  eboulement  under  the  Kochers  des  Fyz,  which  filled 
the  Lac  de  Chede  ;  I  passed  through  the  valley  of  Cluse  a 
night  after  some  two  or  three  thousand  tons  of  limestone 
came  off  the  cliffs  of  Maglans — burying  the  road  and  field  be- 
side it.  I  have  seen  half  a  village  buried  by  a  landslip,  and 
its  people  killed,  under  Monte  St.  Angelo,  above  Amalfi.  I 


THE  THREE  JERAS. 


21 


have  seen  the  lower  lake  of  Llanberis  destroyed,  merely  by 
artificial  slate  quarries  ;  and  the  Waterhead  of  Coniston  seri- 
ously diminished  in  purity  and  healthy  flow  of  current  by  the 
debris  of  its  copper  mines.  These  are  all  cases,  you  will  ob- 
serve, of  degradation  ;  diminishing  majesty  in  the  mountain, 
and  diminishing  depth  in  the  valley,  or  pools  of  its  waters.  I 
cannot  name  a  single  spot  in  which,  during  my  lifetime  spent 
among  the  mountains,  I  have  seen  a  peak  made  grander,  a 
watercourse  cut  deeper,  or  a  mountain  pool  made  larger  and 
purer. 

14.  I  am  almost  surprised,  myself,  as  I  write  these  words, 
at  the  strength  which,  on  reflection,  I  am  able  to  give  to  my 
assertion.  For,  even  till  I  began  to  write  these  very  pages, 
and  was  forced  to  collect  my  thoughts,  I  remained  under  the 
easily  adopted  impression,  that,  at  least  among  soft  earthy 
eminences,  the  rivers  were  still  cutting  out  their  beds.  And 
it  is  not  so  at  all.  There  are  indeed  banks  here  and  there 
which  they  visibly  remove  ;  but  whatever  they  sweep  down 
from  one  side,  they  sweep  up  on  the  other,  and  extend  a 
promontory  of  land  for  every  shelf  they  undermine  :  and  as 
for  those  radiating  fibrous  valleys  in  the  Apennines,  and  such 
other  hills,  which  look  symmetrically  shaped  by  streams, — 
they  are  not  lines  of  trench  from  below,  but  lines  of  wash  or 
slip  from  above  :  they  are  the  natural  wear  and  tear  of  the 
surface,  directed  indeed  in  easiest  descent  by  the  bias  of  the 
stream,  but  not  dragged  down  by  its  grasp.  In  every  one  of 
those  ravines  the  water  is  being  choked  up  to  a  higher  level ; 
it  is  not  gnawing  down  to  a  lower.  So  that,  I  repeat,  ear- 
nestly, their  chasms  being  choked  below,  and  their  precipices 
shattered  above,  all  mountain  forms  are  suffering  a  deliques- 
cent and  corroding  change, — not  a  sculpturesque  or  anato- 
mizing change.  All  character  is  being  gradually  effaced  ;  all 
crooked  places  made  straight, — all  rough  places,  plain  ;  and 
among  these  various  agencies,  not  of  erosion,  but  co?Tosion, 
none  are  so  distinct  as  that  of  the  glacier,  in  filling  up,  not 
cutting  deeper,  the  channel  it  fills  ;  and  in  rounding  and 
smoothing,  but  never  sculpturing,  the  rocks  over  which  it 
passes. 


28 


DEUCALION-. 


In  this  fragmentary  collection  of  former  work,  now  patched 
and  darned  into  serviceable  ness,  I  cannot  finish  my  chapters 
with  the  ornamental  fringes  I  used  to  twine  for  them  ;  nor 
even  say,  by  any  means,  all  I  have  in  my  mind  on  the  matters 
they  treat  of  :  in  the  present  case,  however,  the  reader  will 
find  an  elucidatory  postscript  added  at  the  close  of  the  fourth 
chapter,  which  he  had  perhaps  better  glance  over  before  be- 
ginning the  third. 


CHAPTER  HI. 

OF  ICE-CREAM. 

(Continuation  of  Lecture  delivered   at   London  Institution, 
with  added  Illustrations  from  Lectures  at  Oxford.) 

1.  The  statement  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  doubtless 
surprising  and  incredible  to  many  of  my  readers,  must,  be- 
fore I  reinforce  it,  be  explained  as  referring  only  to  glaciers 
visible,  at  this  day,  in  temperate  regions.  For  of  formerly 
deep  and  continuous  tropical  ice,  or  of  existing  Arctic  ice, 
and  their  movements,  or  powers,  I  know,  and  therefore  say, 
nothing.*    But  of  the  visible  glaciers  couched  upon  the  visi- 

*  The  following  passage,  quoted  in  the  1  Geological  Magazine '  for 
June  of  this  year,  by  Mr.  Clifton  "Ward,  of  Keswick,  from  a  letter  of 
Professor  Sedgwick's,  dated  May  24th,  1842,  is  of  extreme  value  ;  and 
Mr.  Ward  s  following  comments  are  most  reasonable  and  just: — 

l*No  one  will,  I  trust,  be  so  bold  as  to  affirm  that  an  uninterrupted 
glacier  could  ever  have  extended  from  Shap  Fells  to  the  coast  of  Holder- 
ness,  and  borne  along  the  blocks  of  granite  through  the  whole  distance, 
without  any  help  from  the  floating  power  of  water.  The  supposition 
involves  difficulties  tenfold  greater  than  are  implied  in  the  phenomenon 
it  pretends  to  account  for.  The  glaciers  descending  through  the  val~ 
leys  of  the  higher  Alps  have  an  enormous  transporting  power:  but  there 
is  no  such  power  in  a  great  sheet  of  ice  expanded  over  a  country  with- 
out mountains,  and  at  a  nearly  dead  level. 

The  difficulties  involved  in  the  theories  of  Messrs.  Croll,  Belt,  Good- 
child,  and  others  of  the  same  extreme  school,  certainly  press  upon  me 
— and  I  think  I  may  say  abo  upon  others  of  my  colleagues  —  increas- 
ingly, as  the  country  becomes  more  and  more  lain i liar  in  its  features. 


OF  ICE- CREAM, 


29 


ble  Alps,  two  great  facts  are  very  clearly  ascertainable,  which, 
in  my  lecture  at  the  London  Institution,  I  asserted  in  their 
simplicity,  as  follows  : — 

%  The  first  great  fact  to  be  recognized  concerning  them  is 
that  they  are  Fluid  bodies.  Sluggishly  fluid,  indeed,  but 
definitely  and  completely  so ;  and  therefore,  they  do  not 
scramble  down,  nor  tumble  down,  nor  crawl  down,  nor  slip 
down  ;  but  flow  down.  They  do  not  move  like  leeches,  nor 
like  caterpillars,  nor  like  stones,  but  like,  what  they  are  made 
of,  water. 

That  is  the  main  fact  in  their  state,  and  progress,  on  which 
all  their  great  phenomena  depend. 

Fact  first  discovered  and  proved  by  Professor  James  Forbes, 
of  Edinburgh,  in  the  year  1842,  to  the  astonishment  of  all 
the  glacier  theorists  of  his  time  ; — fact  strenuously  denied, 
disguised,  or  confusedly  and  partially  apprehended,  by  all  of 
the  glacier  theorists  of  subsequent  times,  down  to  our  owrn 
day ;  else  there  had  been  no  need  for  me  to  tell  it  you  again 
to-night. 

3.  The  second  fact  of  which  I  have  to  assure  you  is  partly, 
I  believe,  new  to  geologists,  and  therefore  may  be  of  some 
farther  interest  to  you  because  of  its  novelty,  though  I  do  not 
myself  care  a  grain  of  moraine-dust  for  the  newness  of  things; 
but  rather  for  their  oldness  ;  and  wronder  more  willingly  at 

It  is  indeed  a  most  startling  thought,  as  one  stands  upon  the  eastern 
borders  of  the  Lake-mountains,  to  fancy  the  ice  from  the  Scotch  hills 
stalking  boldly  across  the  Sol  way,  marching  steadily  up  the  Eden  Val- 
ley, and  persuading  some  of  the  ice  from  Shap  to  join  it  on  an  excur- 
sion over  Stainmoor,  and  bring  its  boulders  with  it. 

The  outlying  northern  parts  of  the  Lake-district,  and  the  flat  country 
beyond,  have  indeed  been  ravished  in  many  a  raid  by  our  Scotch  neigh- 
bours, but  it  is  a  question  whether,  in  glacial  times,  the  Cumbrian 
mountains  and  Pennine  chain  had  not  strength  in  their  protruding  icy 
arms  to  keep  at  a  distance  the  ice  proceeding  from  the  district  of  the 
southern  uplands,  the  mountains  of  which  are  not  superior  in  elevation. 
Let  us  hope  that  the  careful  geological  observations  which  will  doubt- 
less be  made  in  the  forthcoming  scientific  Arctic  Expedition  will  throw 
much  new  light  on  our  past  glacial  period. 

J.  Clifton  Ward 

Keswick,  April  26*7*,  1875. 


so 


DEUCALION. 


what  my  father  and  grandfather  thought  wonderful,  (as,  for 
instance,  that  the  sun  should  rise,  or  a  seed  grow,)  than  at 
any  newly-discovered  marvel.  Nor  do  I  know,  any  more  than 
I  care,  whether  this  that  I  have  to  tell  you  be  new  or  not ; 
but  I  did  not  absolutely  know  it  myself,  until  lately  ;  for 
though  I  had  ventured  with  some  boldness  to  assert  it  as  a 
consequence  of  other  facts,  I  had  never  been  under  the  bot- 
tom of  a  glacier  to  look.  But,  last  summer,  I  was  able  to 
cross  the  dry  bed  of  a  glacier,  which  I  had  seen  flowing,  two 
hundred  feet  deep,  over  the  same  spot,  forty  years  ago.  And 
there  I  saw,  what  before  I  had  suspected,  that  modern  gla- 
ciers, like  modern  rivers,  were  not  cutting  their  beds  deeper, 
but  filling  them  up.  These,  then,  are  the  two  facts  I  wish  to 
lay  distinctly  before  you  this  evening, — first  that  glaciers  are 
fluent ;  and,  secondly,  that  they  are  filling  up  their  beds,  not 
cutting  them  deeper. 

4.  (I.)  Glaciers  are  fluent;  slowly,  like  lava,  but  distinct]y. 
And  now  I  must  ask  you  not  to  disturb  yourselves,  as  I  speak, 
with  bye-thoughts  about  '  the  theory  of  regulation.'  It  is  very 
interesting  to  know  that  if  you  put  two  pieces  of  ice  together, 
they  will  stick  together ;  let  good  Professor  Faraday  have  all 
the  credit  of  showing  us  that ;  and  the  human  race  in  general, 
the  discredit  of  not  having  known  so  much  as  that,  about 
the  substance  they  have  skated  upon,  dropped  through,  and 
eat  any  quantity  of  tons  of — these  two  or  three  thousand 
years. 

It  was  left,  nevertheless,  for  Mr.  Faraday  to  show  them 
that  two  pieces  of  ice  will  stick  together  when  they  touch — 
as  two  pieces  of  hot  glass  will.  But  the  capacity  of  ice  for 
sticking  together  no  more  accounts  for  the  making  of  a  glacier,, 
than  the  capacity  of  glass  for  sticking  together  accounts  for 
the  making  of  a  bottle.  The  mysteries  of  crystalline  vitrifica- 
tion, indeed,  present  endless  entertainment  to  the  scientific  in- 
quirer ;  but  by  no  theory  of  vitrification  can  he  explain  to  us 
how  the  bottle  was  made  narrow  at  the  neck,  or  dishonestly 
vacant  at  the  bottom.  Those  conditions  of  it  are  to  be  ex- 
plained only  by  the  study  of  the  centrifugal  and  moral 
powers  to  which  it  has  been  submitted. 


OF  ICE-CREAM. 


31 


5.  In  like  manner,  I  do  not  doubt  but  that  wonderful  phe- 
nomena of  congelation,  regelation,  degelation,  and  gelation 
pure  without  preposition,  take  place  whenever  a  schoolboy 
makes  a  snowball ;  and  that  miraculously  rapid  changes  in 
the  structure  and  temperature  of  the  particles  accompany  the 
experiment  of  producing  a  star  with  it  on  an  old  gentleman's 
back.  But  the  principal  conditions  of  either  operation  are 
still  entirely  dynamic.  To  make  your  snowball  hard,  you 
must  squeeze  it  hard  ;  and  its  expansion  on  the  recipient  sur- 
face is  owing  to  a  lateral  diversion  of  the  impelling  forces, 
and  not  to  its  regelatic  properties. 

6.  Our  first  business,  then,  in  studying  a  glacier,  is  to  con- 
sider the  mode  of  its  original  deposition,  and  the  large  forces 
of  pressure  and  fusion  brought  to  bear  on  it,  with  their 
necessary  consequences  on  such  a  substance  as  we  practicahy 
know  snow  to  be, — a  powder,  ductile  by  wind,  compressible 
by  weight ;  diminishing  by  thaw,  and  hardening  by  time  and 
frost ;  a  thing  which  sticks  to  rough  ground,  and  slips  on 
smooth  ;  which  clings  to  the  branch  of  a  tree,  and  slides  on 
a  slated  roof. 

7.  Let  us  suppose,  then,  to  begin  with,  a  volcanic  cone  in 
which  the  crater  has  been  filled,  and  the  temperature  cooled, 
and  which  is  now  exposed  to  its  first  season  of  glacial  agen- 
cies. Then  let  P]ate  1,  Fig.  1,  represent  this  mountain,  with 
part  of  the  plans  at  its  foot  under  an  equally  distributed 
depth  of  a  first  winter's  snow,  and  place  the  level  of  perpetual 
snow  at  any  point  you  like — for  simplicity's  sake,  I  put  it  half- 
way up  the  cone.  Below  this  snow-line,  all  snow  disappears 
in  summer ;  but  above  it,  the  higher  we  ascend,  the  more  of 
course  we  find  remaining.  It  is  quite  wonderful  how  few 
feet  in  elevation  make  observable  difference  in  the  quantity  of 
snow  that  will  lie.  This  last  winter,  in  crossing  the  moors 
of  the  peak  of  Derbyshire,  I  found,  on  the  higher  masses 
of  them,  that  ascent  certainly  not  greater  than  that  at  Harrow 
from  the  bottom  of  the  hill  to  the  school-house,  made  all  the 
difference  between  easy  and  difficult  travelling,  by  the  change 
in  depth  of  snow. 

8.  At  the  close  of  the  summer,  we  have  then  the  remnant 


32 


DEUCALION. 


represented  in  Fig.  2,  on  which  the  snows  of  the  ensuing 
winter  take  the  form  in  Fig.  3  ;  and  from  this  greater  heap 
we  shall  have  remaining  a  greater  remnant,  which,  supposing 
no  wind  or  other  disturbing  force  modified  its  form,  would 
appear  as  at  Fig.  4 ;  and,  under  such  necessary  modification, 
together  with  its  own  deliquescence,  would  actually  take  some 
such  figure  as  that  shown  at  Fig.  5. 

Now,  what  is  there  to  hinder  the  continuance  of  accumula- 
tion ?  If  we  cover  this  heap  with  another  layer  of  winters 
snow  (Fig.  6),  we  see  at  once  that  the  ultimate  condition 
would  be,  unless  somehow  prevented,  one  of  enormous  mass, 
superincumbent  on  the  peak — like  a  colossal  haystack,  and 
extending  far  down  its  sides  below  the  level  of  the  snow -line. 

You  are,  however,  doubtless  well  aware  that  no  such  accu- 
mulation as  this  ever  does  take  place  on  a  mountain-top. 

9.  So  far  from  it,  the  eternal  snows  do  not  so  much  as  fill 
the  basins  between  mountain-tops  ;  but,  even  in  these  hollows, 
form  depressed  sheets  at  the  bottom  of  them.  The  difference 
between  the  actual  aspect  of  the  Alps,  and  that  which  they 
would  present  if  no  arrest  of  the  increasing  accumulation  on 
them  took  place,  may  be  shown  before  you  with  the  greatest 
ease  ;  and  in  doing  so  I  have,  in  all  humility,  to  correct  a 
grave  error  of  my  own,  which,  strangely  enough,  has  remained 
undetected,  or  at  least  unaccused,  in  spite  of  all  the  animos- 
ity provoked  by  my  earlier  writings. 

10.  When  I  wrote  the  first  volume  of  'Modern  Painters,' 
scarcely  any  single  fact  was  rightly  known  by  anybody,  about 
either  the  snow  or  ice  of  the  Alps.  Chiefly  the  snows  had 
been  neglected  :  very  few  eyes  had  ever  seen  the  higher 
snows  near  ;  no  foot  had  trodden  the  greater  number  of  Alpine 
summits  ;  and  I  had  to  glean  what  I  needed  for  my  pictorial 
purposes  as  best  I  could, — and  my  best  in  this  case  was  a 
blunder.  The  thing  that  struck  me  most,  when  I  saw  the 
Alps  myself,  was  the  enormous  accumulation  of  snow  on  them  ; 
and  the  way  it  clung  to  their  steep  sides.  Well,  I  said  to  my- 
self, '  of  course  it  must  be  as  thick  as  it  can  stand  ;  because, 
as  there  is  an  excess  which  doesn't  melt,  it  would  go  on  build- 
ing itself  up  like  the  Tower  of  Babel,  unless  it  tumbled  off 


OF  ICE-CREAM. 


33 


There  must  be  always,  at  the  end  of  winter,  as  much  snow  on 
every  high  summit  as  it  can  carry.' 

There  must,  I  said.  That  is  the  mathematical  method  of 
science  as  opposed  to  the  artistic.  Thinking  of  a  thing,  and 
demonstrating, — instead  of  looking  at  it.  Very  fine,  and  very 
sure,  if  you  happen  to  have  before  you  all  the  elements  of 
thought ;  but  always  very  dangerously  inferior  to  the  unpre- 
tending method  of  sight — for  people  who  have  eyes,  and  can 
use  them.  If  I  had  only  looked  at  the  snow  carefully,  I  should 
have  seen  that  it  wasn't  anywhere  as  thick  as  it  could  stand  or 
lie — or,  at  least,  as  a  hard  substance,  though  deposited  in 
powder,  could  stand.  And  then  I  should  have  asked  myself, 
with  legitimate  rationalism,  why  it  didn't ;  and  if  I  had  but 
asked — Well,  it's  no  matter  what  perhaps  might  have  hap- 
pened if  I  had.    I  never  did. 

11.  Let  me  now  show  you,  practically,  how  great  the  error 
was.  Here  is  a  little  model  of  the  upper  summits  of  the  Ber- 
nese range.  I  shake  over  them  as  much  flour  as  they  will 
carry  ;  now  I  brush  it  out  of  the  valleys,  to  represent  the 
melting.  Then  you  see  what  is  left  stands  in  these  domes 
and  ridges,  representing  a  mass  of  snow  about  six  miles 
deep.  That  is  what  the  range  would  be  like,  however,  if 
the  snow  stood  up  as  the  flour  does  ;  and  snow  is  at  least, 
you  will  admit,  as  adhesive  as  flour. 

12.  But,  you  will  say,  the  scale  is  so  different,  you  can't 
reason  from  the  thing  on  that  scale.  A  most  true  objection. 
You  cannot ;  and  therefore  I  beg  you,  in  like  manner,  not  to 
suppose  that  Professor  Tyndall's  experiments  on  "  a  straight 
prism  of  ice,  four  inches  long,  an  inch  wide,  and  a  little  more 
than  an  inch  in  depth,"  *  are  conclusive  as  to  the  modes  of 
glacier  motion. 

In  what  respect  then,  we  have  to  ask,  would  the  difference 
in  scale  modify  the  result  of  the  experiment  made  here  on 
the  table,  supposing  this  model  was  the  Jungfrau  itself,  and 
the  flour  supplied  by  a  Cyclopean  miller  and  his  men  ? 

13.  In  the  first  place,  the  lower  beds  of  a  mass  six  miles 


*  *  Glaciers  of  the  Alps,'  p.  348. 


DEUCALION. 


deep  would  be  much  consolidated  by  pressure.  But  would 
they  be  only  consolidated  ?  Would  they  be  in  nowise  squeezed 
out  at  the  sides  ? 

The  answer  depends  of  course  on  the  nature  of  flour,  and 
on  its  conditions  of  dryness.  And  you  must  feel  in  a  mo- 
ment that,  to  know  what  an  Alpine  range  would  look  like,' 
heaped  with  any  substance  whatever,  as  high  as  the  sub- 
stance would  stand — you  must  first  ascertain  how  high  the 
given  substance  will  stand — on  level  ground.  You  might, 
perhaps  heap  your  Alp  high  with  wheat, — not  so  high  with 
sand, — nothing  like  so  high  with  dough  ;  and  a  very  thin 
coating  indeed  would  be  the  utmost  possible  result  of  any 
quantity  whatever  of  showers  of  manna,  if  it  had  the  consist- 
ence, as  well  as  the  taste,  of  wafers  made  with  honey. 

14.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  our  first  of  inquiries  bearing  on 
the  matter  before  us,  must  be,  How  high  will  snow  stand  on 
level  ground,  in  a  block  or  column  ?  Suppose  you  were  to 
plank  in  a  square  space,  securely — twenty  feet  high — thirty — 
fifty  ;  and  to  fill  it  with  dry  snow.  How  high  could  you  get 
your  pillar  to  stand,  when  you  took  away  the  wooden  walls  ? 
and  when  you  reached  your  limit,  or  approached  it,  whafc 
would  happen  ? 

Three  more  questions  instantly  propose  themselves  ;  namely, 
What  happens  to  snow  under  given  pressure  ?  will  it  under 
some  degrees  of  pressure  change  into  anything  else  than 
snow?  and  what  length  of  time  will  it  take  to  effect  the 
change  ? 

Hitherto,  we  have  spoken  of  snow  as  dry  only,  and  there- 
fore as  solid  substance,  permanent  in  quantity  and  quality. 
You  know  that  it  very  often  is  not  dry  ;  and  that,  on  the 
Alps,  in  vast  masses,  it  is  throughout  great  part  of  the  year 
thawing,  and  therefore  diminishing  in  quantity. 

It  matters  not  the  least,  to  our  general  inquiry,  how  much 
of  it  is  wet,  or  thawing,  or  at  what  times.  I  merely  at 
present  have  to  introduce  these  two  conditions  as  elements 
in  the  business.  It  is  not  dry  snow  always,  but  often  soppy 
snow — snow  and  water, — that  you  have  to  squeeze.  And  it 
is  not  freezing  snow  always,  but  very  often  thawing  snow. 


OF  ICE-CREAM. 


35 


—  diminishing  therefore  in  bulk  every  instant, — that  you 
have  to  squeeze. 

It  does  not  matter,  I  repeat,  to  our  immediate  purpose, 
when,  or  how  far,  these  other  conditions  enter  our  ground  ; 
but  it  is  best,  I  think,  to  put  the  dots  on  the  is  as  we  go 
along.  You  have  heard  it  stated,  hinted,  suggested,  im- 
plied, or  whatever  else  you  like  to  call  it,  again  and  again, 
by  the  modern  school  of  glacialists,  that  the  discoveries  of 
James  Forbes  were  anticipated  by  Rendu. 

15.  I  have  myself  more  respect  for  Rendu  than  any  modern 
glacialist  has.  He  was  a  man  of  de  Saussure's  temper,  and  of 
more  than  de  Saussure's  intelligence  ;  and  if  he  hadn't  had  the 
misfortune  to  be  a  bishop,  would  very  certainly  have  left 
James  Forbes's  work  a  great  deal  more  than  cut  out  for  him ; 
— stitched — and  pretty  tightly — in  most  of  the  seams.  But  he 
was  a  bishop ;  and  could  only  examine  the  glaciers  to  an  ejDisco- 
pic  extent ;  and  guess,  the  best  he  could,  after  that.  His 
guesses  are  nearly  always  splendid ;  but  he  must  needs  some- 
times reason  as  well  as  guess  ;  and  he  reasons  himself  with 
beautiful  plausibility,  ingenuity,  and  learning,  up  to  the  con- 
clusion— which  he  announces  as  positive — that  it  always  freezes 
on  the  Alps,  even  in  summer.  James  Forbes  was  the  first 
who  ascertained  the  fallacy  of  this  episcopal-  position  ;  and 
who  announced — to  our  no  small  astonishment — that  it  always 
thawed  on  the  Alps,  even  in  winter. 

16.  Not  superficially  of  course,  nor  in  all  places.  But  in- 
ternally, and  in  a  great  many  places.  And  you  will  find  it  is 
an  ascertained  fact — the  first  great  one  of  which  we  owe  the 
discovery  to  him — that  all  the  year  round,  you  must  reason 
on  the  masses  of  aqueous  deposit  on  the  Alps  as,  practically, 
in  a  state  of  squash.  Not  freezing  ice  or  snow,  nor  dry  ice  or 
snow,  but  in  many  places  saturated  with, — everywhere  affected 
by, — moisture  ;  and  always  subject,  in  enormous  masses,  to 
the  conditions  of  change  which  affect  ice  or  snow  at  the  freez- 
ing-point, and  not  below  it.  Even  James  Forbes  himself 
scarcely,  I  think,  felt  enough  the  importance  of  this  element 
of  his  own  discoveries,  in  all  calculations  of  glacier  motion. 
He  sometimes  speaks  of  his  glacier  a  little  too  simply  as  if  it 


36 


DEUCALION, 


were  a  stream  of  undiminishing  substance,  as  of  treacle  or  tar, 
moving  under  the  action  of  gravity  only  ;  and  scarcely  enough 
recognizes  the  influence  of  the  subsiding  languor  of  its  faint- 
ing mass,  as  a  constant  source  of  motion  ;  though  nothing  can 
be  more  accurate  than  his  actual  account  of  its  results  on  the 
surface  of  the  Mer  de  Glace,  in  his  fourth  letter  to  Professor 
Jameson. 

17.  Let  me  drive  the  notion  well  home  in  your  own  minds, 
therefore,  before  going  farther.  You  may  permanently  secure 
it,  by  an  experiment  easily  made  by  each  one  of  you  for  your- 
selves this  evening,  and  that  also  on  the  minute  and  easily 
tenable  scale  which  is  so  approved  at  the  Eoyal  Institution  ; 
for  in  this  particular  case  the  material  conditions  may  indeed 
all  be  represented  in  very  small  compass.  Pour  a  little  hot 
water  on  a  lump  of  sugar  in  your  teaspoon.  You  will  imme- 
diately see  the  mass  thaw,  and  subside  by  a  series  of,  in  minia- 
ture, magnificent  and  appalling  catastrophes,  into  a  miniature 
glacier,  which  you  can  pour  over  the  edge  of  your  teaspoon 
into  your  saucer ;  and  if  you  will  then  add  a  little  of  the  brown 
sugar  of  our  modern  commerce — of  a  slightly  sandy  character, 
— you  may  watch  the  rate  of  the  flinty  erosion  upon  the  soft 
silver  of  the  teaspoon  at  your  ease,  and  with  Professor  Earn- 
say 's  help,  calculate  the  period  of  time  necessary  to  wear  a 
hole  through  the  bottom  of  it. 

I  think  it  would  be  only  tiresome  to  you  if  I  carried  the  in- 
quiry farther  by  progressive  analysis.  You  will,  I  believe, 
permit,  or  even  wish  me,  rather  to  state  summarily  what  the 
facts  are : — their  proof,  and  the  process  of  their  discovery,  you 
will  find  incontrovertible  and  finally  given  in  this  volume, 
classical,  and  immortal  in  scientific  literature — which,  twenty- 
five  years  ago,  my  good  master  Dr.  Buckland  ordered  me,  in 
his  lecture-room  at  the  Ashmolean,  to  get, — as  closing  all 
question  respecting  the  nature  and  cause  of  glacier  movement, 
— James  Forbes's  '  Travels  in  the  Alps.' 

18.  The  entire  mass  of  snow  and  glacier,  (the  one  passing 
gradually  and  by  infinite  modes  of  transition  into  the  other, 
over  the  whole  surface  of  the  Alps,)  is  one  great  accumulation 
of  ice-cream,  poured  upon  the  tops,  and  flowing  to  the  bot- 


OF  ICE- CREAM. 


37 


fcoms,  of  the  mountains,  under  precisely  the  same  special  con- 
dition of  gravity  and  coherence  as  the  melted  sugar  poured 
on  the  top  of  a  bride-cake  ;  but  on  a  scale  which  induces  forms 
and  accidents  of  course  peculiar  to  frozen  water,  as  distin- 
guished from  frozen  syrup,  and  to  the  scale  of  Mont  Blanc  and 
the  Jungfrau,  as  compared  to  that  of  a  bride-cake.  Instead 
©f  an  inch  thick,  the  ice-cream  of  the  Alps  will  stand  two  hun- 
dred feet  thick, — no  thicker,  anywhere,  if  it  can  run  off;  but 
will  lie  in  the  hollows  like  lakes,  and  clot  and  cling  about  the 
less  abrupt  slopes  in  festooned  wreaths  of  rich  mass  and  sweep- 
ing flow,  breaking  away,  where  the  steepness  becomes  intolera- 
ble, into  crisp  precipices  and  glittering  cliffs. 

19.  Yet  never  for  an  instant  motionless — never  for  an  instant 
without  internal  change,  through  all  the  gigantic  mass,  of  the 
relations  to  each  other  of  every  crystal  grain.  That  one  which 
you  break  now  from  its  wave-edge,  and  which  melts  in  your 
hand,  has  had  no  rest,  day  nor  night,  since  it  faltered  down 
from  heaven  when  you  were  a  babe  at  the  breast ;  and  the 
white  cloud  that  scarcely  veils  yonder  summit — seven-colored 
in  the  morning  sunshine — has  strewed  it  with  pearly  hoar- 
frost, which  will  be  on  this  spot,  trodden  by  the  feet  of  others, 
in  the  day  when  you  also  will  be  trodden  under  feet  of  men, 
in  your  grave. 

20.  Of  the  infinite  subtlety,  the  exquisite  constancy  of  this 
fluid  motion,  it  is  nearly  impossible  to  form  an  idea  in  the 
least  distinct.  We  hear  that  the  ice  advances  two  feet  in  the 
clay  ;  and  wonder  how  such  a  thing  can  be  possible,  unless  the 
mass  crushed  and  ground  down  everything  before  it.  But 
think  a  little.  Two  feet  in  the  day  is  a  foot  in  twelve  hours, 
■ — only  an  inch  in  an  hour,  (or  say  a  little  more  in  the  daytime, 
as  less  in  the  night,) — and  that  is  maximum  motion  in  mid- 
glacier.  If  your  Geneva  watch  is  an  inch  across,  it  is  three 
inches  round,  and  the  minute-hand  of  it  moves  three  times 
faster  than  the  fastest  ice.  Fancy  the  motion  of  that  hand  so 
slow  that  it  must  take  three- hours  to  get  round  the  little  dial. 
Between  the  shores  of  this  vast  gulf  of  hills,  the  long  wave  of 
hastening  ice  only  keeps  pace  with  that  lingering  arrow,  in  its 
central  crest ;  and  that  invisible  motion  fades  away  upwards 


38 


DEUCALION. 


through  forty  years  of  slackening  stream,  to  the  pure  light  of 
dawn  on  yonder  stainless  summit,  on  which  this  morning's 
snow  lies — motionless. 

21.  And  yet,  slow  as  it  is,  this  infinitesimal  rate  of  current  is 
enough  to  drain  the  vastest  gorges  of  the  Alps  of  their  snow, 
as  clearly  as  the  sluice  of  a  canal-gate  empties  a  lock.  The 
mountain  basin  included  between  the  Aiguille  Verte,  the 
Grandes  Jorasses,  and  the  Mont  Blanc,  has  an  area  of  about 
thirty  square  miles,  and  only  one  outlet,  little  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  wide  :  yet,  through  this  the  contents  of  the 
entire  basin  are  drained  into  the  valley  of  Chamounix  with 
perfect  steadiness,  and  cannot  possibly  fill  the  basin  beyond  a 
certain  constant  height  above  the  point  of  overflow. 

Overflow7,  I  say,  deliberately  ;  distinguishing  always  the 
motion  of  this  true  fluid  from  that  of  the  sand  in  an  hour- 
glass, or  stones  slipping  in  a  heap  of  shale.  But  that  the 
nature  of  this  distinction  may  be  entirely  conceived  by  you, 
I  must  ask  you  to  pause  with  some  attention  at  this  word,  to 
'flow,' — which  attention  may  perhaps  be  more  prudently 
asked  in  a  separate  chapter. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LABITUR,  ET  LABETUIt. 

{Lecture  given  at  London  Institution,  continued,  with  added 

Illustrations.) 

1.  Of  course — we  all  know  what  flowing  means.  Well,  it 
is  to  be  hoped  so  ;  but  I'm  not  sure.  Let  us  see.  The  sand 
of  the  hour-glass, — do  you  call  the  motion  of  that  flowing  ? 

No.  It  is  only  a  consistent  and  measured  fall  of  many  unat- 
tached particles. 

Or  do  you  call  the  entrance  of  a  gas  through  an  aperture, 
out  of  a  full  vessel  into  an  empty  one,  flowing  ? 

No.    That  is  expansion — not  flux. 

Or  the  draught  through  the  keyhole  ?  No — is  your  answer, 


LABITUR,  ET  LABETUR. 


38 


still.    Let  us  take  instance  in  water  itself.    The  spring  of  a 
fountain,  or  of  a  sea  breaker  into  spray.    You  don't  call  that 
flowing  ? 
No. 

Nor  the  fall  of  a  fountain,  or  of  rain  ? 
No. 

Well,  the  rising  of  a  breaker, — the  current  of  water  in  the 
hollow  shell  of  it, — is  that  flowing  ?  No.  After  it  has  broken 
— rushing  up  over  the  shingle,  or  impatiently  advancing  on 
the  sand  ?    You  begin  to  pause  in  your  negative. 

Drooping  back  from  the  shingle  then,  or  ebbing  from  the 
sand  ?    Yes  ;  flowing,  in  some  places,  certainly,  now. 

You  see  how  strict  and  distinct  the  idea  is  in  our  minds. 
Will  you  accept — I  think  you  may, — this  definition  of  it? 
Flowing  is  "  the  motion  of  liquid  or  viscous  matter  over  solid 
matter,  under  the  action  of  gravity,  without  any  other  impel- 
ling force." 

2.  Will  you  accuse  me,  in  pressing  this  definition  on  you, 
of  wasting  time  in  mere  philological  nicety  ?  Permit  me,  in 
the  capacity  which  even  the  newspapers  allow  to  me, — that  of 
a  teacher  of  expression, — to  answer  you,  as  often  before  now, 
that  philological  nicety  is  philosophical  nicety.  See  the  im- 
portance of  it  here.  I  said  a  glacier  flowed.  But  it  remains 
a  question  whether  it  does  not  also  spring, — whether  it  can 
rise  as  a  fountain,  no  less  than  descend  as  a  stream. 

For,  broadly,  there  are  two  methods  in  which  either  a 
stream  or  glacier  moves. 

The  first,  by  withdrawing  a  part  of  its  mass  in  front,  the 
vacancy  left  by  which,  another  part  supplies  from  behind. 

That  is  the  method  of  a  continuous  stream, — perpetual  de- 
duction,* by  what  precedes,  of  what  follows. 

The  second  method  of  motion  is  when  the  mass  that  is 
behind,  presses,  or  is  poured  in  upon,  the  masses  before. 
That  is  the  way  in  which  a  cataract  falls  into  a  pool,  or  a 
fountain  into  a  basin. 

Now,  in  the  first  case,  you  have  catenary  curves,  or  else 

*  "  Ex  quo  ilia  admirabilis  a  majoribus  aquae  facta  deductio  est."-* 
Cic.  de  Div.,  1,  44. 


40 


DEUCALION. 


curves  of  traction,  going  down  the  stream.  In  the  second 
case,  you  have  irregularly  concentric  curves,  and  ripples  of 
impulse  and  compression,  succeeding  each  other  round  the 
pool. 

3.  Now  the  Mer  de  Glace  is  deduced  down  its  narrow 
channel,  like  a  river  ;  and  the  Glacier  des  Bossons  is  de- 
duced down  its  steep  ravine  ;  and  both  were  once  injected 
into  a  pool  of  ice  in  the  valley  below,  as  the  Glacier  of  the 
Ehone  is  still.  Whereupon,  observe,  if  a  stream  falls  into  a 
basin — level-lipped  all  round — you  know  when  it  runs  over  it 
must  be  pushed  over — lifted  over.  But  if  ice  is  thrown  into 
a  heap  in  a  plain,  you  can't  tell,  without  the  closest  observa- 
tion, how  violently  it  is  pushed  from  behind,  or  how  softly  it 
is  diffusing  itself  in  front ;  and  I  had  never  set  my  eyes  or 
wits  to  ascertain  where  compression  in  the  mass  ceased,  and 
diffusion  began,  because  I  thought  Forbes  had  done  every- 
thing that  had  to  be  done  in  the  matter.  But  in  going  over 
his  work  again  I  find  he  has  left  just  one  thing  to  be  still  ex- 
plained ;  and  that  one  chances  to  be  left  to  me  to  show  you 
this  evening,  because,  by  a  singular  and  splendid  Nemesis,  in 
the  obstinate  rejection  of  Forbes's  former  conclusively  simple 
experiments,  and  in  the  endeavour  to  substitute  others  of  his 
own,  Professor  Tyndall  has  confused  himself  to  the  extreme 
point  of  not  distinguishing  these  two  conditions  of  deductive 
and  impulsive  flux.  His  incapacity  of  drawing,  and  ignorance 
of  perspective,  prevented  him  from  constructing  his  diagrams 
either  clearly  enough  to  show  him  his  own  mistakes,  or  pret- 
tily enough  to  direct  the  attention  of  his  friends  to  them  ; — 
and  they  luckily  remain  to  us,  in  their  absurd  immortality. 

4.  Forbes  poured  viscous  substance  in  layers  down  a 
trough  ;  let  the  stream  harden  ;  cut  it  into  as  many  sections 
as  were  required  ;  and  showed,  in  permanence,  the  actual 
conditions  of  such  viscous  motion.  Eager  to  efface  the 
memory  of  these  conclusive  experiments,  Professor  Tyndall 
(c  Glaciers  of  the  Alps,5  page  383)  substituted  this  literally 
'  superficial '  one  of  his  own.  He  stamped  circles  on  the  top 
of  a  viscous  current  ;  found,  as  it  flowed,  that  they  were 
drawn  into  ovals ;  but  had  not  wit  to  consider,  or  sense  to 


LABITUR,  ET  LABETUR. 


41 


D 


E 


see,  whether  the  area  of  the  circle  was  enlarged  or  diminished 
— or  neither — during  its  change  in 
shape.  He  jumped,  like  the  rawest  • 
schoolboy,  to  the  conclusion  that  a 
circle,  becoming  an  oval,  must  neces- 
sarily be  compressed  !  You  don't 
compress  a  globe  of  glass  when  you1 
blow  it  into  a  soda-water  bottle,  do 
you? 

5.  But  to  reduce  Professor  Tyn- 
dall's  problem  into  terms.  Let  A  F, 
Fig.  3,  be  the  side  of  a  stream  of 
any  substance  whatever,  and  a  /the 
middle  of  it ;  and  let  the  particles 
at  the  middle  move  twice  as  fast 
as  the  particles  at  the  sides.  Now 
we  cannot  study  all  the  phenomena 
of  fluid  motion  in  one  diagram,  nor 
any  one  phenomenon  of  fluid  motion 
but  by  progressive  diagrams ;  and 
this  first  one  only  shows  the  changes 
of  form  which  would  take  place  in  a 
substance  which  moved  with  uniform 
increase  of  rapidity  from  side  to 
centre.  No  fluid  substance  would 
so  move  ;  but  you  can  only  trace  the 
geometrical  facts  step  by  step,  from 
uniform  increase  to  accelerated  in- 
crease. Let  the  increase  of  rapidity, 
therefore,  first  be  supposed  uniform. 
Then,  while  the  point  A  moves  to  B, 
the  point  a  moves  to  <?,  and  any  points 
once  intermediate  in  a  right  line  be- 
tween A  and  a,  will  now  be  interme- 
diate in  a  right  line  between  B  and- 
c,  and  their  places  determinable  by 
verticals  from  each  to  each. 

I  need  not  be  tedious  in  farther 


\i  f 


Fig.  3. 

describing  the  figure 


42 


DEUCALION. 


Suppose  A  b  a  square  mile  of  the  substance,  and  the  origin 
of  motion  on  the  line  A  a.  Then  when  the  point  A  has  ar- 
rived at  B,  the  point  B  has  arrived  at  C,  the  point  a  at  c,  and 
the  point  b  at  d,  and  the  mile  square,  A  b,  has  become  the 
mile  rhombic,  B  d,  of  the  same  area  ;  and  if  there  were  a 
circle  drawn  in  the  square  A  6,  it  will  become  the  fat  ellipse 
in  B  d,  and  thin  ellipse  in  C  f9  successively. 

6.  Compressed,  thinks  Professor  Tyndall,  one  way,  and 
stretched  the  other ! 

But  the  Professor  has  never  so  much  as  understood  what 
'  stretching  '  means.  He  thinks  that  ice  won't  stretch  !  Does 
he  suppose  treacle,  or  oil,  will  ?  The  brilliant  natural  philos- 
opher has  actually,  all  through  his  two  books  on  glaciers,  con- 
fused viscosity  with  elasticity !  You  can  stretch  a  piece  of 
India-rubber,  but  you  can  only  diffuse  treacle,  or  oil,  or 
water. 

"  But  you  can  draw  these  out  into  a  narrow  stream,  where- 
as you  cannot  pull  the  ice  ?  " 

No  ;  neither  can  you  pull  water,  can  you?  In  compressing 
any  substance,  you  can  apply  any  force  you  like  ;  but  in  ex- 
tending it,  you  can  only  apply  force  less  than  that  with  which 
its  particles  cohere.  You  can  pull  honey  into  a  thin  string, 
when  it  comes  out  of  the  comb  ;  let  it  be  candied,  and  you 
can't  pull  it  into  a  thin  string.  Does  that  make  it  less  a  vis- 
cous substance  ?  You  can't  stretch  mortar  either.  It  cracks 
even  in  the  hod,  as  it  is  heaped.  Is  it,  therefore,  less  fluent 
or  manageable  in  the  mass  *? 

7.  Whereas  the  curious  fact  of  the  matter  is,  that,  in  pre- 
cise contrariety  to  Mr.  Tyndall's  idea,  ice,  (glacier  ice,  that  is 
to  say,)  will  stretch ;  and  that  treacle  or  water  won't !  and  that's 
just  the  plague  of  dealing  with  the  whole  glacier  question — 
that  the  incomprehensible,  untenable,  indescribable  ice  will 
both  squeeze  and  open  ;  and  is  slipping  through  your  fingers 
all  the  time  besides,  by  melting  away.  You  can't  deal  with 
it  as  a  simple  fluid  ;  and  still  less  as  a  simple  solid.  And  in- 
stead of  having  less  power  to  accommodate  itself  to  the  irreg- 
ularities of  its  bed  than  water,  it  has  much  more  ; — a  great 
deal  more  of  it  will  subside  into  a  deep  place,  and  ever  so 


LAB1TUR,  ET  LABETUR. 


43 


much  of  it  melt  in  passing  over  a  shallow  one  ;  and  the  cen- 
tre, at  whatever  rate  it  moves,  will  supply  itself  by  the  ex- 
haustion of  the  sides,  instead  of  raging  round,  like  a  stream  in 
back- water. 

8.  However,  somehow,  I  must  contrive  to  deal  at  least  with 
the  sure  fact  that  the  velocity  of  it  is  progressively  greater 
from  the  sides  to  the  centre,  and  from  the  bottom  to  the  sur- 
face. 

Now  it  is  the  last  of  these  progressive  increments  which 
is  of  chief  importance  to  my  present  purpose. 

For  my  own  conviction  on  the  matter  ; — mind,  not  theory, 
for  a  man  can  always  avoid  constructing  theories,  but  cannot 
possibly  help  his  convictions,  and  may  sometimes  feel  it  right 
to  state  them, — my  own  conviction  is  that  the  ice,  when  it  is 
of  any  considerable  depth,  no  more  moves  over  the  bottom 
than  the  lower  particles  of  a  running  stream  of  honey  or 
treacle  move  over  a  plate,  but  that,  in  entire  rest  at  the  bot- 
tom, except  so  far  as  it  is  moved  by  dissolution,  it  increases 
in  velocity  to  the  surface  in  a  curve  of  the  nature  of  a  parab- 
ola, or  a  logarithmic  curve,  capable  of  being  infinitely  pro- 
longed, on  the  supposition  of  the  depth  of  the  ice  increasing 
to  infinity. 

9.  But  it  is  now  my  fixed  principle  not  to  care  what  I  think, 
when  a  fact  can  be  ascertained  by  looking,  or  measuring.  Sor 
not  having  any  observations  of  my  own  on  this  matter,  I  seek 
wrhat  help  may  be  had  elsewhere  ;  and  find  in  the  eleventh 
chapter  of  Professor  Tyndall's  'Glaciers  of  the  Alps,'  two  most 
valuable  observations,  made  under  circumstances  of  considera- 
ble danger,  calmly  encountered  by  the  author,  and  grumblingly 
by  his  guide, — danger  consisting  in  the  exposure  to  a  some- 
what close  and  well-supported  fire  of  round  and  grape  from 
the  glacier  of  the  Geant,  which  objected  to  having  its  velocity 
measured.  But  I  find  the  relation  of  these  adventures  so 
much  distract  me  from  the  matter  in  hand,  that  I  must  digress 
briefly  into  some  notice  of  the  general  literary  structure  of 
this  remarkable  book. 

10.  Professor  Tyndall  never  fails  to  observe  with  compla- 
cency, and  to  describe  to  his  approving  readers,  how  un« 


44 


DEUCALION. 


clouded  the  luminous  harmonies  of  his  reason,  imagination, 
and  fancy  remained,  under  conditions  which,  he  rightly  con- 
cludes, would  have  been  disagreeably  exciting,  or  even  dis- 
tinctly disturbing,  to  less  courageous  persons.  And  indeed  I 
confess,  for  my  own  part,  that  my  successfullest  observations 
have  always  been  made  while  lying  all  my  length  on  the  soft- 
est grass  I  could  find  ;  and  after  assuring  myself  with  extreme 
caution  that  if  I  chanced  to  go  to  sleep,  (which  in  the  process 
of  very  profound  observations  I  usually  do,  at  least  of  an  af- 
ternoon,) I  am  in  no  conceivable  peril  beyond  that  of  an  ant- 
bite.  Nevertheless,  the  heroic  Professor  does  not,  it  seems 
to  me,  sufficiently  recognize  the  universality  of  the  power 
of  English,  French,  German,  and  Italian  gentlemen  to  re- 
tain their  mental  faculties  under  circumstances  even  of  more 
serious  danger  than  the  crumbling  of  a  glacier  moraine  ;  and  to 
think  with  quickness  and  precision,  when  the  chances  of  death 
preponderate  considerably,  or  even  conclusively,  over  those  of 
life.  Nor  does  Professor  Tyndall  seem  to  have  observed  that 
the  gentlemen  possessing  this  very  admirable  power  in  any 
high  degree,  do  not  usually  think  their  own  emotions,  or  ab- 
sence of  emotions,  proper  subjects  of  printed  history,  and 
public  demonstration. 

11.  Nevertheless,  when  a  national  philosopher,  under  show- 
ers of  granite  grape,  places  a  stake  and  auger  against  his 
heart,  buttons  his  coat  upon  them,  and  cuts  himself  an  oblique 
staircase  up  a  wall  of  ice,  nearly  vertical,  to  a  height  of  forty 
feet  from  the  bottom  ;  and  there,  unbuttoning  his  coat,  pierces 
the  ice  with  his  auger,  drives  in  his  stake,  and  descends  with- 
out injury,  though  during  the  whole  operation  his  guide 
"  growls  audibly,"  we  are  bound  to  admit  his  claim  to  a  sci- 
entific Victoria  Cross — or  at  least  crosslet, — and  even  his  right 
to  wralk  about  in  our  London  drawing-rooms  in  a  gracefully 
cruciferous  costume  ;  while  I  have  no  doubt  also  that  many 
of  his  friends  will  be  interested  in  such  metaphysical  partic- 
ulars and  examples  of  serene  mental  analysis  as  he  may  choose 
to  give  them  in  the  course  of  his  autobiography.  But  the 
Professor  ought  more  clearly  to  understand  that  scientific 
writing  is  one  thing,  and  pleasant  autobiography  another  ; 


LABITUH,  ET  LABETUB. 


15 


and  though  an  officer  may  not;  be  able  to  give  an  account  of  a 
battle  without  involving  some  statement  of  his  personal  share 
in  it,  a  scientific  observer  might  with  entire  ease,  and  much 
convenience  to  the  public,  have  published  '  The  Glaciers  of 
the  Alps '  in  two  coincident,  but  not  coalescing,  branches — 
like  the  glaciers  of  the  Giant  and  Lechaud  ;  and  that  out  of 
the  present  inch  and  a  half  thickness  of  the  volume,  an  inch 
and  a  quarter  might  at  once  have  been  dedicated  to  the  Giant 
glacier  of  the  autobiography,  and  the  remaining  quarter  of  an 
inch  to  the  minor  current  of  scientific  observation,  which,  like 
the  Glacier  de  Lechaud,  appears  to  be  characterized  by  "  the 
comparative  shallowness  of  the  upper  portion,"  *  and  by  its 
final  reduction  to  "  a  driblet  measuring  about  one-tenth  of  its 
former  transverse  dimensions." 

12.  It  is  true  that  the  book  is  already  divided  into  two  por- 
tions,— the  one  described  as  "  chiefly  narrative,"  and  the  other 
as  "  chiefly  scientific."  The  chiefly  narrative  portion  is,  in- 
deed, full  of  very  interesting  matter  fully  justifying  its  title  ; 
as,  for  instance,  "  We  tumbled  so  often  in  the  soft  snow,  and 
our  clothes  and  boots  were  so  full  of  it,  that  we  thought  we 
might  as  well  try  the  sitting  posture  in  sliding  down.  We 
did  so,  and  descended  with  extraordinary  velocity"  (p.  116). 
Or  again  :  "  We  had  some  tea,  which  had  been  made  at  the 
Montanvert,  and  carried  up  to  the  Grand  Mulets  in  a  bottle. 
My  memory  of  that  tea  is  not  pleasant "  (p.  73).  Or  in  higher 
strains  of  scientific  wit  and  pathos  :  "  As  I  looked  at  the  ob- 
jects which  had  now  become  so  familiar  to  me,  I  felt  that, 
though  not  viscous,  the  ice  did  not  lack  the  quality  of  adhe- 
siveness, and  I  felt  a  little  sad  at  the  prospect  of  bidding  it  so 
soon  farewell." 

13.  But  the  merely  romantic  readers  of  this  section,  rich 
though  it  be  in  sentiment  and  adventure,  will  find  themselves 
every  now  and  then  arrested  by  pools,  as  it  were,  of  almost 
impassable  scientific  depth — such  as  the  description  of  a  rock 
"  evidently  to  be  regarded  as  an  assemblage  of  magnets,  or  as 
a  single  magnet  full  of  consequent  points"  (p.  140).  While, 
on  the  other  hand,  when  in  the  course  of  my  own  wo*1*,  find* 

*  '  Glaciers  of  the  Alps,'  p.  28$. 


DEUCALION. 


iug  myself  pressed  for  time,  and  eager  to  collect  every  scrap 
of  ascertained  data  accessible  to  me,  I  turn  hopefully  to  the 
eleventh  chapter  of  the  "  chiefly  scientific  "  section  of  the  vol- 
ume, I  think  it  hard  upon  me  that  I  must  read  through  three 
pages  of  narrative  describing  the  Professor's  dangers  and  ad- 
dress, before  I  can  get  at  the  two  observations  which  are  the 
sum  of  the  scientific  contents  of  the  chapter,  yet  to  the  first  of 
which  "  unfortunately  some  uncertainty  attached  itself,"  and 
the  second  of  which  is  wanting  in  precisely  the  two  points 
which  would  have  made  it  serviceable.  First,  it  does  not  give 
the  rate  of  velocity  at  the  base,  but  five  feet  above  the  base ; 
and,  secondly,  it  gives  only  three  measurements  of  motion. 
Had  it  given  four,  we  could  have  drawn  the  curve ;  but  we 
can  draw  any  curve  we  like  through  three  points. 

14.  I  will  try  the  three  points,  however,  with  the  most 
probable  curve  ;  but  this  being  a  tedious  business,  will  re- 
serve it  for  a  separate  chapter,  which  readers  may  skip  if  they 
choose  :  and  insert,  for  the  better  satisfaction  of  any  who 
may  have  been  left  too  doubtful  by  the  abrupt  close  of  my 
second  chapter,  this  postscript,  written  the  other  day  after 
watching  the  streamlets  on  the  outlying  fells  of  Shap. 

15.  Think  what  would  be  the  real  result,  if  any  stream 
among  our  British  hills  at  this  moment  were  cutting  its  bed 
deeper. 

In  order  to  do  so,  it  must  of  course  annually  be  able  to  re- 
move the  entire  zone  of  debris  moved  down  to  its  bed  from 
the  hills  on  each  side  of  it— and  somewhat  more. 

Take  any  Yorkshire  or  Highland  stream  you  happen  to 
know,  for  example  ;  and  think  what  quantity  of  debris  must 
be  annually  moved,  on  the  hill  surfaces  which  feed  its  waters. 
Remember  that  a  lamb  cannot  skip  on  their  slopes,  but  it 
stirs  with  its  hoofs  some  stone  or  grain  of  dust  which  will 
more  or  less  roll  or  move  downwards.  That  no  shower  of 
rain  can  fall — no  wreath  of  snow  melt,  without  moving  some 
quantity  of  dust  downwards.  And  that  no  frost  can  break 
up,  without  materially  loosening  some  vast  ledges  of  crag, 
and  innumerable  minor  ones  ;  nor  without  causing  the  fall  of 
others  as  vast,  or  as  innumerable.    Make  now  some  effort  to 


juABITTJR,  ET  LABETUR  47 
I 

conceive  the  quantity  of  rock  and  dust  moved  annually,  lower, 
past  any  given  level  traced  on  the  flanks  of  any  considerable 
mountain  stream,  over  the  area  it  drains — say,  for  example, 
in  the  basin  of  the  Ken  above  Kendal,  or  of  the  Wharfe  above 
Bolton  Abbey. 

16.  Then,  if  either  of  those  streams  were  cutting  their  beds 
deeper, — that  quantity  of  rock,  and  something  more,  must  be 
annually  carried  doAvn  by  their  force,  past  Kendal  bridge,  and 
Bolton  stepping-stones.  Which  you  will  find  would  occasion 
phenomena  very  astonishing  indeed  to  the  good  people  of 
Kendal  and  Wharfedale. 

17.  "But  it  need  not  be  carried  down  past  the  stepping- 
stones,  "  you  say — "it  may  be  deposited  somewhere  above." 
Yes,  that  is  precisely  so  ; — and  wherever  ifc  is  deposited,  the 
bed  of  the  stream,  or  of  some  tributary  streamlet,  is  being 
raised.  Nobody  notices  the  raising  of  it ; — another  stone  or 
two  among  the  wide  shingle — a  tongue  of  sand  an  inch  or  two 
broader  at  the  burn  side — who  can  notice  that  ?  Four  or  five 
years  pass  ; — a  flood  comes  ; — and  Farmer  So-and-So's  field  is 
covered  with  slimy  ruin.  And  Farmer  So-and-So's  field  is  an 
inch  higher  than  it  wras,  for  evermore — but  who  notices  that? 
The  shingly  stream  has  gone  back  into  its  bed:  here  and 
there  a  whiter  stone  or  two  gleams  among  its  pebbles,  but 
next  year  the  water  stain  has  darkened  them  like  the  rest,  and 
the  bed  is  just  as  far  below  the  level  of  the  field  as  it  was. 
And  your  careless  geologist  says,  *  what  a  powerful  stream  it 
is,  and  how  deeply  it  is  cutting  its  bed  through  the  glen  ! ' 

18.  Now,  carry  out  this  principle  for  existing  glaciers.  If 
the  glaciers  of  Chamouni  were  cutting  their  beds  deeper, 
either  the  annual  line  of  debris  of  the  Mont  Blanc  range  on 
its  north  side  must  be  annually  carried  down  past  the  Pont 
Pelissier  ;  or  the  valley  of  Chamouni  must  be  in  process  of 
filling  up,  while  the  ravines  at  its  sides  are  being  cut  clown 
deeper.  Will  any  geologist,  supporting  the  modern  glacial 
theories,  venture  to  send  me,  for  the  next  number  of  Deu- 
calion, his  idea,  on  this  latter,  by  him  inevitable,  hypothesis, 
of  the  profile  of  the  bottom  of  the  Glacier  des  Bossons,  a  thou* 
sand  years  ago  :  and  a  thousand  years  hence  ? 


48 


DEUCALION. 

I 


CHAPTEE  V. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  CLUSE. 

1.  What  strength  of  faith  men  have  in  each  other  ;  and 
how  impossible  it  is  for  them  to  be  independent  in  thought, 
however  hard  they  try  !  Not  that  they  ever  ought  to  be  : 
bat  they  should  know,  better  than  they  do,  the  incumbrance 
that  the  false  notions  of  others  are  to  them. 

Touching  this  matter  of  glacial  grinding  action  ;  you  will 
find  every  recent  writer  taking  up,  without  so  much  as  a 
thought  of  questioning  it,  the  notion  adopted  at  first  careless 
sight  of  a  glacier  stream  by  some  dull  predecessor  of  all  prac- 
tical investigation — that  the  milky  colour  of  it  is  all  produced 
by  dust  ground  off  the  rocks  at  the  bottom.  And  it  never 
seems  to  occur  to  any  one  of  the  Alpine  Club  men,  who  are 
boasting  perpetually  of  their  dangers  from  falling  stones  ;  nor 
even  to  professors  impeded  in  their  most  important  observa- 
tions by  steady  fire  of  granite  grape,  that  falling  stones  may 
probably  knock  their  edges  off  when  they,  strike;  and  that 
moving  banks  and  fields  of  moraine,  leagues  long,  and  leagues 
square,  of  which  every  stone  is  shifted  a  foot  forward  every 
day  on  a  surface  melting  beneath  them,  must  in  such  shifting 
be  liable  to  attrition  enough  to  produce  considerably  more 
dust,  and  that  of  the  finest  kind,  than  any  glacier  stream  car- 
ries down  with  it — not  to  speak  of  processes  of  decomposition 
accelerated,  on  all  surfaces  liable  to  them,  by  alternate  action 
of  frost  and  fierce  sunshine. 

2.  But  I  have  not,  as  yet,  seen  any  attempts  to  determine 
even  the  first  data  on  which  the  question  of  attrition  must  be 
dealt  with.  I  put  it,  in  simplicity,  at  the  close  of  last  chapter. 
But,  in  its  full  extent,  the  inquiry  ought  not  to  be  made 
merely  of  the  bed  of  the  Glacier  des  Bossons  ;  but  of  the  bed 
of  the  Arve,  from  the  Col  de  Balme  to  Geneva  ;  in  which  the 
really  important  points  for  study  are  the  action  of  its  waters 
at  Pont  Pelissier  ; — at  the  falls  below  Servoz  ; — at  the  porta] 


THE  VALLEY  OF  CLUSE. 


49 


of  Cluse  ; — and  at  the  northern  end  of  the  slope  of  the  Saleve. 

3.  For  these  four  points  are  the  places  where,  if  at  all, 
sculptural  action  is  really  going  on  upon  its  bed  :  at  those 
points,  if  at  all,  the  power  of  the  Second  2Era,  the  sera  of 
sculpture,  is  still  prolonged  into  this  human  clay  of  ours.  As 
also  it  is  at  the  rapids  and  falls  of  all  swiftly  descending  rivers. 
The  one  vulgar  and  vast  deception  of  Niagara  has  blinded  the 
entire  race  of  modern  geologists  to  the  primal  truth  of  moun- 
tain form,  namely,  that  the  rapids  and  cascades  of  their 
streams  indicate,  not  points  to  which  the  falls  have  receded, 
but  places  where  the  remains  of  once  colossal  cataracts  still 
exist,  at  the  places  eternally  (in  human  experience)  appointed 
for  the  formation  of  such  cataracts,  by  the  form  and  hardness 
of  the  local  rocks.  The  rapids  of  the  Amazon,  the  Nile,  and 
the  Ehine,  obey  precisely  the  same  law  as  the  little  Wharfe 
at  its  Strid,  or  as  the  narrow  '  rivus  aquae '  which,  under  a 
bank  of  strawberries  in  my  own  tiny  garden,  has  given  me 
perpetual  trouble  to  clear  its  channel  of  the  stones  brought 
down  in  flood,  while,  just  above,  its  place  of  picturesque  cas- 
cade, is  determined  for  it  by  a  harder  bed  of  Coniston  flags, 
and  the  little  pool,  below  that  cascade,  never  encumbered  with 
stones  at  all. 

4.  Now  the  bed  of  the  Arve,  from  the  crest  of  the  Col  de 
Balme  to  Geneva,  has  a  fall  of  about  5,000  feet ;  and  if  any 
young  Oxford  member  of  the  Alpine  Club  is  minded  to  do  a 
piece  of  work  this  vacation,  which  in  his  old  age,  when  he 
comes  to  take  stock  of  himself,  and  edit  the  fragments  of 
himself,  as  I  am  now  sorrowfully  doing,  he  will  be  glad  to 
have  done,  (even  though  he  risked  neither  his  own  nor  any 
one  else's  life  to  do  it,)  let  him  survey  that  bed  accurately, 
and  give  a  profile  of  it,  wTith  the  places  and  natures  of  emer- 
gent rocks,  and  the  ascertainable  depths  and  dates  of  allu- 
vium cut  through,  or  in  course  of  deposition. 

5.  After  doing  this  piece  of  work  carefully,  he  will  probably 
find  some  valuable  ideas  in  his  head  concerning  the  propor- 
tion of  the  existing  stream  of  the  Arve  to  that  which  once 
flowed  from  the  glacier  which  deposited  the  moraine  of  Lc-s 
Tines  ;  and  again,  of  that  torrent  to  the  infinitely  vaster  one 


50 


DEUCALION. 


of  the  glacier  that  deposited  the  great  moraine  of  St.  Gervais  ; 
and  finally  of  both,  to  the  cliffs  of  Cluse,  which  have  despised 
and  resisted  them.  And  ideas  which,  after  good  practical 
work,  he  finds  in  his  head,  are  likely  to  be  good  for  some- 
thing :  but  he  must  not  seek  for  them;  all  thoughts  worth 
having  come  like  sunshine,  whether  we  will  or  no :  the 
thoughts  not  worth  having,  are  the  little  lucifer  matches  we 
strike  ourselves. 

6.  And  I  hasten  the  publication  of  this  number  of  Deuca- 
lion, to  advise  any  reader  who  cares  for  the  dreary  counsel  of 
an  old-fashioned  Alpine  traveller,  to  see  the  valley  of  Cluse 
this  autumn,  if  he  may,  rather  than  any  other  scene  among 
the  Alps  ; — for  if  not  already  destroyed,  it  must  be  so,  in  a 
few  months  more,  by  the  railway  which  is  to  be  constructed 
through  it,  for  the  transport  of  European  human  diluvium. 
The  following  note  of  my  last  walk  there,  written  for  my 
autumn  lectures,  may  be  worth  preserving  among  the  shingle 
of  my  scattered  work. 

7.  I  had  been,  for  six  months  in  Italy,  never  for  a  single 
moment  quit  of  liability  to  interruption  of  thought.  By  day 
or  night,  whenever  I  was  awake,  in  the  streets  of  every  city, 
there  wTere  entirely  monstrous  and  inhuman  noises  in  perpet- 
ual recurrence.  The  violent  rattle  of  carriages,  driven  habit- 
ually in  brutal  and  senseless  haste,  or  creaking  and  thunder- 
ing under  loads  too  great  for  their  cattle,  urged  on  by 
perpetual  roars  and  shouts  :  wild  bellowing  and  howling  of 
obscene  wretches  far  into  the  night :  clashing  of  church  bells, 
in  the  morning,  dashed  into  reckless  discord,  from  twenty 
towers  at  once,  as  if  rung  by  devils  to  defy  and  destroy  the 
quiet  of  God's  sky,  and  mock  the  laws  of  His  harmony  :  filthy, 
stridulous  shrieks  and  squeaks,  reaching  for  miles  into  the 
quiet  air,  from  the  railroad  stations  at  every  gate  :  and  the 
vociferation,  endless,  and  frantic,  of  a  passing  populace  whose 
every  word  was  in  mean  passion,  or  in  unclean  jest.  Living 
in  the  midst  of  this,  and  of  vulgar  sights  more  horrible  than 
the  sounds,  for  six  months,  I  found  myself — suddenly,  as  in 
a  dream — walking  again  alone  through  the  valley  of  Cluse, 
unchanged  since  I  knew  it  first,  when  I  was  a  boy  of  fifteen, 


THE  VALLEY  OF  CLUSE. 


51 


quite  forty  years  ago  ; — and  in  perfect  quiet,  and  with  the 
priceless  completion  of  quiet,  that  I  was  without  fear  of  any 
outcry  or  base  disturbance  of  it. 

8.  But  presently,  as  I  walked,  the  calm  was  deepened,  in- 
stead of  interrupted,  by  a  murmur — first  low,  as  of  bees,  and 
then  rising  into  distinct  harmonious  chime  of  deep  bells,  ring- 
ing in  true  cadences — but  I  could  not  tell  where.  The  cliffs 
on  each  side  of  the  valley  of  Cluse  vary  from  1,500  to  above 
2,000  feet  in  height;  and,  without  absolutely  echoing  the 
chime,  they  so  accepted,  prolonged,  and  diffused  it,  that  at 
first  I  thought  it  came  from  a  village  high  up  and  far  away 
among  the  hills ;  then  presently  it  came  down  to  me  as  if 
from  above  the  cliff  under  which  I  was  walking ;  then  I 
turned  about  and  stood  still,  wondering ;  for  the  whole  valley 
was  filled  with  the  sweet  sound,  entirely  without  local  or  con- 
ceivable origin :  and  only  after  some  twenty  minutes'  walk, 
the  depth  of  tones,  gradually  increasing,  showed  me  that  they 
came  from  the  tower  of  Maglans  in  front  of  me  ;  but  when  I 
actually  got  into  the  village,  the  cliffs  on  the  other  side  so 
took  up  the  ringing,  that  I  again  thought  for  some  moments 
I  was  wrong. 

Perfectly  beautiful,  all  the  while,  the  sound,  and  exquisitely 
varied, — from  ancient  bells  of  perfect  tone  and  series,  rung 
with  decent  and  joyful  art. 

"  What  are  the  bells  ringing  so  to-day  for, — it  is  no  fete  ?  " 
I  asked  of  a  woman  who  stood  watching  at  a  garden  gate. 

"  For  a  baptism,  sir." 

And  so  I  went  on,  and  heard  them  fading  back,  and  lost 
among  the  same  bewildering  answers  of  the  mountain  air. 

9.  Now  that  half-hour's  walk  was  to  me,  and  I  think  would 
have  been  to  every  man  of  ordinarily  well-trained  human  and 
Christian  feeling — I  do  not  say  merely  worth  the  whole  six 
months  of  my  previous  journey  in  Italy  ; — it  was  a  reward  for 
the  endurance  and  horror  of  the  six  months'  previous  journey  ; 
but,  as  many  here  may  not  know  what  the  place  itself  is  like, 
and  may  think  I  am  making  too  much  of  a  little  pleasant  belk 
~:"ging,  I  must  tell  you  what  the  valley  of  Cluse  is  in  itself. 

10.  Of  *  Cluse,'  the  closed  valley, — not  a  ravine,  but  a 


52 


DEUCALION. 


winding  plain,  between  very  great  mountains,  rising  for  tht; 
most  part  in  cliffs — but  cliffs  which  retire  one  behind  the 
other  above  slopes  of  pasture  and  forest,  (Now  as  I  am  writ- 
ing this  passage  in  a  country  parsonage — of  Cowsley,  near  "Ox- 
bridge,— I  am  first  stopped  by  a  railroad  whistle  two  minutes 
and  a  half  long,*  and  then  by  the  rumble  and  grind  of  a  slow 
train,  which  prevents  me  from  hearing  my  own  words,  or  be- 
ing able  to  think,  so  that  I  must  simply  wait  for  ten  minutes, 
till  it  is  past.) 

It  being  past,  I  can  go  on.  Slopes  of  pasture  and  forest,  I 
said,  mingled  with  arable  land,  in  a  way  which  you  can  only  at 
present  see  in  Savoy  ;  that  is  to  say,  you  have  walnut  and 
fruit  trees  of  great  age,  mixed  with  oak,  beech,  and  pine,  as 
they  all  choose  to  grow — it  seems  as  if  the  fruit  trees  planted 
themselves  as  freely  as  the  pines.  I  imagine  this  to  be  the 
consequence  of  a  cultivation  of  very  ancient  date  under  entirely 
natural  laws;  if  a  plum-tree  or  a  walnut  planted  itself,  it  was 
allowed  to  grow  ;  if  it  came  in  the  way  of  anything  or  any- 
body, it  would  be  cut  down  ;  but  on  the  whole  the  trees  grew 
as  they  liked ;  and  the  fields  were  cultivated  round  them  in 
such  spaces  as  the  rocks  left ; — ploughed,  where  the  level  ad- 
mitted, with  a  ploughshare  lightly  constructed,  but  so  huge 
that  it  looks  more  like  the  beak  of  a  trireme  than  a  plough, 
two  oxen  forcing  it  to  heave  aside  at  least  two  feet  depth  of 
the  light  earth  ;—  no  fences  anywhere  ;  winding  field  walks,  of 
rock  paths,  from  cottage  to  cottage  ;  these  last  not  of  the  lux^ 
urious  or  trim  Bernese  type,  nor  yet  comfortless  chalets  ;  but 
sufficient  for  orderly  and  virtuous  life  :  in  outer  aspect,  beau, 
tiful  exceedingly,  just  because  their  steep  roofs,  white  walls, 
and  wandering  vines  had  no  pretence  to  perfectness,  but  were 
wild  as  their  hills.  All  this  pastoral  country  lapped  into  in- 
lets among  the  cliffs,  vast  belts  of  larch  and  pine  cresting  or 
clouding  the  higher  ranges,  whose  green  meadows  change  an 
they  rise,  into  mossy  slopes  and  fade  away  at  last  among  the 
grey  ridges  of  rock  that  are  soonest  silvered  with  autumnal 
snow. 

*  Counted  by  watch,  for  I  knew  by  its  manner  it  would  last,  and 


THE  VALLEY  OF  CLUSE. 


53 


11.  The  ten-miles  length  of  this  valley,  between  Cluse  and 
St.  Martin's,  include  more  scenes  of  pastoral  beauty  and 
mountain  power  than  all  the  poets  of  the  world  have  imagined  ; 
and  present  more  decisive  and  trenchant  questions  respecting 
mountain  structure  than  all  the  philosophers  of  the  world 
could  answer  :  yet  the  only  object  which  occupies  the  mind 
of  the  European  travelling  public,  respecting  it,  is  to  get 
through  it,  if  possible,  under  the  hour. 

12.  I  spoke  with  sorrow,  deeper  than  my  words  attempted 
to  express,  in  my  first  lecture,  of  the  blind  rushing  of  our  best 
youth  through  the  noblest  scenery  of  the  Alps,  without  once 
glancing  at  it,  that  they  might  amuse,  or  kill,  themselves  on 
their  snow.  That  the  claims  of  all  sweet  pastoral  beauty,  of 
all  pious  domestic  life,  for  a  moment's  pause  of  admiration  or 
sympathy,  should  be  unfelt,  in  the  zest  and  sparkle  of  boy's 
vanity  in  summer  play,  may  be  natural  at  all  times  ;  and  inev- 
itable while  our  youth  remain  ignorant  of  art,  and  defiant  of 
religion  ;  but  that,  in  the  present  state  of  science,  when  every 
eye  is  busied  with  the  fires  in  the  Moon  and  the  shadows  in 
the  San,  no  eye  should  occupy  itself  with  the  ravines  of  its 
own  world,  nor  with  the  shadows  which  the  sun  casts  on  the 
clifis  of  them  ;  that  the  simplest, — I  do  not  say  problems,  but 
bare  facts,  of  structure, — should  still  be  unrepresented,  and 
the  outmost  difficulties  of  rock  history  untouched  ;  while  dis- 
pute, and  babble,  idler  than  the  chafed  pebbles  of  the  waver- 
ing beach,  clink,  jar,  and  jangle  on  from  year  to  year  in  vain, 
— surely  this,  in  our  great  University,  I  am  bound  to  declare 
to  be  blameful  ;  and  to  ask  you,  with  more  than  an  artist's  won- 
der, why  this  fair  valley  of  Cluse  is  now  closed  indeed,  and  for- 
saken, "  clasped  like  a  missal  shut  where  Paynims  pray  ; "  and, 
with  all  an  honest  inquirer's  indignation,  to  challenge — in  the 
presence  of  our  Master  of  Geology,  happily  one  of  its  faithful 
and  true  teachers,*  the  Speakers  concerning  the  Earth, — the 
geologists,  not  of  England  only,  but  of  Europe  and  America, — 

*Mr.  Prestwich.  I  have  to  acknowledge,  with  too  late  and  vain  grati- 
tude, the  kindness  and  constancy  of  the  assistance  given  me,  on  all  oc- 
casions when  I  asked  it,  by  his  lamented  predecessor  in  the  Oxford 
Professorship  of  Geology,  Mr.  Phillips. 


54 


DEUCALION. 


either  to  explain  to  you  the  structure  or  sculpture  of  this* 
renownedest  cliff  in  all  the  Alps,  under  which  Tell  leaped 
ashore ;  or  to  assign  valid  reason  for  the  veins  in  the  pebbles 
which  every  Scotch  lassie  wears  for  her  common  jewellery. 


CHAPTEE  VI 

OF  BUTTER  AND  HONEY. 

1'.  The  last  chapter,  being  properly  only  a  continuation  of 
the  postscript  to  the  fourth,  has  delayed  me  so  long  from  my 
question  as  to  ice-curves,  that  I  cannot  get  room  for  the  need- 
ful diagrams  and  text  in  this  number  ;  which  is  perhaps 
fortunate,  for  I  believe  it  will  be  better  first  to  explain  to  the 
reader  more  fully  why  the  ascertainment  of  this  curve  of  ver- 
tical motion  is  so  desirable. 

To  which  explanation,  very  clear  definition  of  some  care- 
lessly used  terms  will  be  essential. 

2.  The  extremely  scientific  Professor  Tyndall  always  uses 
the  terms  Plastic,  and  Viscous,  as  if  they  were  synonymous. 
But  they  express  entirely  different  conditions  of  matter.  The 
first  is  the  term  proper  to  be  used  of  the  state  of  butter,  on 
which  you  can  stamp  whatever  you  choose  ;  and  the  stamp 
will  stay ;  the  second  expresses  that  of  honey,  on  which  you 
can  indeed  stamp  what  you  choose  ;  but  the  stamp  melts  away 
forthwith. 

And  of  viscosity  itself  there  are  two  distinct  varieties — one 
glutinous,  or  gelatinous,  like  that  of  treacle  or  tapioca  soup  ; 
and  the  other  simply  adhesive,  like  that  of  mercury  or  melted 
lead. 

And  of  both  plasticity  and  viscosity  there  are  infinitely 
various  degrees  in  different  substances,  from  the  perfect  and 
absolute  plasticity  of  gold,  to  the  fragile,  and  imperfect,  but 
to  man  more  precious  than  any  quality  of  gold,  plasticity  of 

*  The  cliff  between  Fluelen  and  Brunuen,  on  the  lake  of  Uri,  of 
which  Turner  s  drawing  was  exhibited  at  this  lecture. 


OF  BUTTER  AND  HONEY. 


55 


clay,  and,  most  precious  of  all,  the  blunt  and  dull  plasticity  of 
dough ;  and  again,  from  the  vigorous  and  binding  viscosity 
of  stiff  glue,  to  the  softening  viscosity  of  oil,  and  tender  vis- 
cosity of  old  wine.  I  am  obliged  therefore  to  ask  my  readers 
to  learn,  and  observe  very  carefully  in  our  future  work,  these 
following  definitions. 

Plastic. — Capable  of  change  of  form  under  external  force, 
without  any  loss  of  continuity  of  substance  ;  and  of  retaining 
afterwards  the  form  imposed  on  it. 

Gold  is  the  most  perfectly  plastic  substance  we  commonly 
know  ;  clay,  butter,  etc.,  being  more  coarsely  and  ruggedly 
plastic,  and  only  in  certain  consistencies  or  at  certain  tem- 
peratures. 

Viscous. — Capable  of  change  of  form  under  external  force, 
but  not  of  retaining  the  form  imposed  j  being  languidly  obe- 
dient to  the  force  of  gravity,  and  necessarily  declining  to  the 
lowest  possible  level, — as  lava,  treacle,  or  honey. 

.Ductile. — Capable  of  being  extended  by  traction  without 
loss  of  continuity  of  substance.  Gold  is  both  plastic  and 
ductile  ;  but  clay,  plastic  only,  not  ductile ;  while  most  melted 
metals  are  ductile  only,  but  not  plastic. 

Malleable.—  Plastic  only  under  considerable  force. 

3.  We  must  never  let  any  of  these  words  entangle,  as  neces- 
sary, the  idea  belonging  to  another. 

A  plastic  substance  is  not  necessarily  ductile,  though  gold 
is  both  ;  a  viscous  substance  is  not  necessarily  ductile,  though 
treacle  is  both  ;  and  the  quality  of  elasticity,  though  prac- 
tically inconsistent  with  the  character  either  of  a  plastic  body, 
or  a  viscous  one,  may  enter  both  the  one  and  the  other  as  a 
gradually  superadded  or  interferent  condition,  in  certain 
states  of  congelation  ;  as  in  india-rubber,  glass,  sealing-wax, 
asphalt,  or  basalt. 

I  think  the  number  of  substances  I  have  named  in  this  last 
sentence,  and  the  number  of  entirely  different  states  which  in 
an  instant  will  suggest  themselves  to  you,  as  characteristic  of 
each,  at,  and  above,  its  freezing  or  solidifying  point,  may 
show  at  once  how  careful  we  should  be  in  defining  the  notion 
attached  to  the  words  we  use  ;  and  how  inadequate,  without 


56 


DEUCALION. 


specific  limitation  and  qualification,  any  word  must  be,  to  ex- 
press all  the  qualities  of  any  given  substance. 

4.  But,  above  all  substances  that  can  be  proposed  for 
definition  of  quality,  glacier  ice  is  the  most  defeating.  For  j 
it  is  practically  plastic  ;  but  actually  viscous ; — and  that  to  the 
full  extent.  You  can  beat  or  hammer  it,  like  gold  ;  and  it  1 
will  stay  in  the  form  you  have  beaten  it  into,  for  a  time  ; — 
and  so  long  a  time,  that,  on  all  instant  occasions  of  plasticity, 
it  is  practically  plastic.  But  only  have  patience  to  wait  long 
enough,  and  it  will  run  down  out  of  the  form  you  have 
stamped  on  it,  as  honey  does,  so  that,  actually  and  inherently, 
it  is  viscous,  and  not  plastic. 

5.  Here  then,  at  last,  I  have  got  Forbes's  discovery  and 
assertion  put  into  accurately  intelligible  terms ; — very  in- 
credible terms,  I  doubt  not,  to  most  readers. 

There  is  not  the  smallest  hurry,  however,  needful  in  be- 
lieving them  ;  only  let  us  understand  clearly  what  it  is  we 
either  believe  or  deny  ;  and  in  the  meantime,  return  to  our 
progressive  conditions  of  snow  on  the  simplest  supposable 
terms,  as  shown  in  my  first  plate. 

6.  On  a  conical  mountain,  such  as  that  represented  in  Fig. 
6,  we  are  embarrassed  by  having  to  calculate  the  subtraction 
by  avalanche  down  the  slopes.  Let  us  therefore  take  rather, 
for  examination,  a  place  where  the  snow  can  lie  quiet. 

Let  Fig.  7,  Plate  I.,  represent  a  hollow  in  rocks  at  the  sum- 
mit of  a  mountain  above  the  line  of  perpetual  snow,  the 
lowest  watershed  being  at  the  level  indicated  by  the  dotted 
line.  Then  the  snow,  once  fallen  in  this  hollowT,  can't  get  out 
again  ;  but  a  little  of  it  is  taken  away  every  year,  partly  by 
the  heat  of  the  ground  below,  partly  by  surface  sunshine  and 
evaporation,  partly  by  filtration  of  water  from  above,  while  it 
is  also  saturated  with  water  in  thaw-time,  up  to  the  level  of 
watershed.  Consequently  it  must  subside  every  year  in  the 
middle  ;  and,  as  the  mass  remains  unchanged,  the  same  quan- 
tity must  be  added  every  year  at  the  top, — the  excess  being 
always,  of  course,  blown  away,  or  dropped  off,  or  thawed 
above,  in  the  year  it  falls. 

7.  Hence  the  entire  mass  will  be  composed,  at  any  given 


OF  BUTTER  AND  HONEY. 


57 


time,  of  a  series  of  beds  somewhat  in  the  arrangement  given 
in  Fig.  8  ;  more  remaining  of  each  year's  snow  in  proportion 
to  its  youth,  and  very  little  indeed  of  the  lowest  and  oldest 
Led. 

It  must  subside,  I  say,  every  year ; — but  how  much  is  in- 
volved, of  new  condition,  in  saying  this  ?  Take  the  question 
in  the  simplest  possible  terms  ;  and  let  Fig.  9  represent  a  cup 
or  crater  full  of  snow,  level  in  its  surface  at  the  end  of  winter. 
During  the  summer,  there  w7ill  be  large  superficial  melting  ; 
considerable  lateral  melting  by  reverberation  from  rock,  and 
lateral  drainage  ;  bottom  melting  from  ground  heat,  not  more 
than  a  quarter  of  an  inch, — (Forbes's  Travels,  page  364,) — a 
quantity  which  we  may  practically  ignore.  Thus  the  mass, 
supposing  the  substance  of  it  immovable  in  position,  wTould 
be  reduced  by  superficial  melting  during  the  year  to  the  form 
approximately  traced  by  the  dotted  line  within  it,  in  Fig.  9. 

8.  But  how  of  the  interior  melting  ?  Every  interstice  and 
fissure  in  the  snow,  during  summer,  is  filled  either  with  warm 
air,  or  warm  water  in  circulation  through  it,  and  every  sep- 
arate surface  of  crystal  is  undergoing  its  own  degree  of 
diminution.  And  a  constant  change  in  the  conditions  of 
equilibrium  results  on  every  particle  of  the  mass  ;  and  a  con- 
stant subsidence  takes  place,  involving  an  entirely  different 
relative  position  of  every  portion  of  it  at  the  end  of  the  year. 

9.  But  I  cannot,  under  any  simple  geometrical  figure,  give 
an  approximation  to  the  resultant  directions  of  change  in 
form  ;  because  the  density  of  the  snow  must  be  in  some  degree 
proportioned  to  the  depth,  and  the  melting  less,  in  proportion 
to  the  density. 

Only  at  all  events,  towards  the  close  of  the  year,  the  mass 
enclosed  by  the  dotted  line  in  Fig.  9  will  have  sunk  into  some 
accommodation  of  itself  to  the  hollow  bottom  of  the  crater,  as 
represented  by  the  continuous  line  in  Fig.  10.  And,  over 
that,  the  next  winter  will  again  heap  the  snow  to  the  cup- 
brim,  to  be  reduced  in  the  following  summer  ;  but  now 
through  two  different  states  of  consistence,  to  the  bulk  limited 
by  the  dotted  line  in  Fig.  10. 

10.  In  a  sequence  of  six  years,  therefore,  we  shall  have  a 


58 


DEUCALION. 


series  of  beds  approximately  such  as  in  Fig.  11 ; — approximate 
ly  observe,  I  say  always,  being  myself  wholly  unable  to  deal 
with  the  complexities  of  the  question,  and  only  giving  the 
diagram  for  simplest  basis  of  future  investigation,  by  the  first 
man  of  mathematical  knowledge  and  practical  common  sense, 
who  will  leave  off  labouring  for  the  contradiction  of  his  neigh- 
bours, and  apply  himself  to  the  hitherto  despised  toil  of  the 
ascertainment  of  facts.  And  when  he  has  determined  what 
the  positions  of  the  strata  will  be  in  a  perfectly  uniform  cup, 
such  as  that  of  which  the  half  is  represented  in  perspective  in 
Fig.  12,  let  him  next  inquire  what  would  have  happened  to 
the  mass,  if,  instead  of  being  deposited  in  a  cup  enclosed,  on 
all  sides,  it  had  been  deposited  in  an  amphitheatre  open  on 
one,  as  in  the  section  shown  in  Fig.  12.  For  that  is  indeed 
the  first  radical  problem  to  be  determined  respecting  glacier 
motion. 

Difficult  enough,  if  approached  even  with  a  clear  head,  and 
open  heart ;  acceptant  of  all  help  from  former  observers,  and 
of  all  hints  from  nature  and  heaven  ;  but  very  totally  insol- 
uble, when  approached  by  men  whose  poor  capacities  for 
original  thought  are  unsteadied  by  conceit,  and  paralyzed 
by  envy. 

11.  In  my  second  plate,  I  have  given,  side  by  side,  a  reduc- 
tion, to  half-scale,  of  part  of  Forbes's  exquisite  chart  of  the 
Mer  de  Glace,  published  in  1845,  from  his  own  survey  made 
in  1842 ;  and  a  reproduction,  approximately  in  facsimile,  of 
Professor  Tyndall's  woodcut,  from  his  own  '  ej^e-sketch  '  of  the 
same  portion  of  the  glacier  "as  seen  from  the  cleft  station, 
Treiaporte,"  published  in  I860.* 

That  Professor  Tyndall  is  unable  to  drawT  anything  as  seen 
from  anywhere,  I  observe  to  be  a  matter  of  much  self-con- 
gratulation to  him  ;  such  inability  serving  farther  to  establish 
the  sense  of  his  proud  position  as  a  man  of  science,  above  us 
poor  artists,  who  labour  under  the  disadvantage  of  being  able 

*  1  Glaciers  of  the  Alps,'  p.  3G9.  Observe  also  that  my  engraving,  in 
consequence  of  the  reduced  scale,  is  grievously  inferior  to  Forbes's 
work;  but  quite  effectually  and  satisfactorily  reproduces  Professor 
TyDdall's,  of  the  same  size  as  the  original. 


OF  BUTTER  AND  HONEY. 


with  some  accuracy  to  see,  and  with  some  fidelity  to  repre- 
sent, what  we  wish  to  talk  about.  But  when  he  found  him- 
self so  resplendently  inartistic,  in  the  eye-sketch  in  question, 
that  the  expression  of  his  scientific  vision  became,  for  less 
scientific  persons,  only  a  very  bad  map,  it  was  at  least  incum- 
bent on  his  Koyally-social  Eminence  to  ascertain  whether  any 
better  map  of  the  same  places  had  been  published  before. 
And  it  is  indeed  clear,  in  other  places  of  his  book,  that  he  was 
conscious  of  the  existence  of  Forbes's  chart ;  but  did  not  care 
to  refer  to  it  on  this  occasion,  because  it  contained  the  cor- 
rection of  a  mistake  made  by  Forbes  in  1842,  which  Professor 
Tyndall  wanted,  himself,  to  have  the  credit  of  correcting  ;  leav- 
ing the  public  at  the  same  time  to  suppose  it  had  never  been 
corrected  by  its  author. 

12.  This  manner,  and  temper,  of  reticence,  with  its  relative 
personal  loquacity,  is  not  one  in  which  noble  science  can  be 
advanced  ;  or  in  which  even  petty  science  can  be  increased. 
Had  Professor  Tyndall,  instead  of  seeking  renown  by  the  ex- 
position of  Forbes's  few  and  minute  mistakes,  availed  himself 
modestly  of  Forbes's  many  and  great  discoveries,  ten  years  of 
arrest  by  futile  discussion  and  foolish  speculation  might  have 
been  avoided  in  the  annals  of  geology  ;  and  assuredly  it  would 
not  have  been  left  for  a  despised  artist  to  point  out  to  you, 
this  evening,  the  one  circumstance  of  importance  in  glacier 
structure  which  Forbes  has  not  explained. 

13.  You  may  perhaps  have  heard  I  have  been  founding  my 
artistic  instructions  lately  on  the  delineation  of  a  jam-pot. 
Delighted  by  the  appearance  of  that  instructive  object,  in  the 
Hotel  du  Mont  Blanc,  at  St.  Martin's,  full  of  Chamouni  honey, 
of  last  year,  stiff  and  white,  I  found  it  also  gave  me  command 
of  the  best  possible  material  for  examination  of  glacial  action 
on  a  small  scale. 

Pouring  a  little  of  its  candied  contents  out  upon  my  plate, 
by  various  tilting  of  which  I  could  obtain  any  rate  of  motion 
I  wished  to  observe  in  the  viscous  stream  ;  and  encumbering  the 
sides  and  centre  of  the  said  stream  wdth  magnificent  moraines 
composed  of  crumbs  of  toast,  I  was  able,  looking  alternately  to 
table  and  window,  to  compare  the  visible  motion  of  the  met 


CO 


DEUCALION'. 


lifluous  glacier,  and  its  transported  toast,  with  the  less  trace- 
able, but  equally  constant,  motion  of  the  glacier  of  Bionnassay, 
and  its  transported  granite.  And  I  thus  arrived  at  the  per- 
ception of  the  condition  of  glacial  structure,  which  though,  as 
I  told  you  just  now,  not,  I  believe,  hitherto  illustrated,  it  is 
entirely  in  your  power  to  illustrate  for  yourselves  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner. 

If  }'ou  will  open  a  fresh  pot  of  honey  to-morrow  at  break- 
fast, and  take  out  a  good  table-spoonful  of  it,  you  will  see, 
of  course,  the  surface  generally  ebb  in  the  pot.  Put  the 
table-spoonful  back  in  a  lump  at  one  side,  and  you  will  see  the 
surface  generally  flow  in  the  pot.  The  lump  you  have  put  on 
at  the  side  does  not  diffuse  itself  over  the  rest ;  but  it  sinks 
into  the  rest,  and  the  entire  surface  rises  round  it,  to  its  former 
level. 

Precisely  in  like  manner,  every  pound  of  snow  you  put  on 
the  top  of  Mont  Blanc,  eventually  makes  the  surface  of  the 
glaciers  rise  at  the  bottom.* 

15.  That  is  not  impulsive  action,  mind  you.  That  is  mere 
and  pure  viscous  action- — the  communication  of  force  equally 
in  every  direction  among  slowly  moving  particles.  I  once 
thought  that  this  force  might  also  be  partially  elastic,  so  that 
whereas,  however  vast  a  mass  of  honey  you  had  to  deal  with, 
— a  Niagara  of  honey, — you  never  could  get  it  to  leap  like  a 
sea-wave  at  rocks,  ice  might  yet,  in  its  fluency,  retain  this 
power  of  leaping  ;  only  slowly, — taking  a  long  time  to  rise, 
yet  obeying  the  same  mathematic  law  of  impulse  as  a  sea- 
breaker  ;  but  ascending  through  seras  of  surge,  and  commu- 
nicating, through  seras,  its  recoil.  The  little  ripple  of  the 
stream  breaks  on  the  shore, — quick,  quick,  quick.  The  Atlantic 
wave  slowly  uplifts  itself  to  its  plunge,  and  slowly  appeases  its 
thunder.  The  ice  wrave — if  there  be  one — would  be  to  the 
Atlantic  wave  as  the  ocean  is  to  the  brook. 

If  there  be  one  !  The  question  is  of  immense — of  vital — 
importance,  to  that  of  glacier  action  on  crag :  but  before  at- 
tacking it,  we  need  to  know  what  the  lines  of  motion  are, — 
first,  in  a  subsiding  table- spoonful  of  honey  ;  secondly,  in  an 
*  Practically  hyperbolic  expression,  but  mathematically  true. 


OF  BUTTER  AND  HONEY. 


61 


uprearing  Atlantic  wave  ;  and,  thirdly,  in  the  pulsatory  festoons 
of  a  descending  cataract,  obtained  by  the  relaxation  of  its  mass, 
while  the  same  pulsatory  action  is  displayed,  as  unaccountably, 
by  a  glacier  cataract,*  in  the  compression  of  its  mass. 

And  on  applying  to  learned  men  in  Oxford  and  Cam- 
bridge f  for  elucidation  of  these  modes  of  motion,  I  find  that, 
while  they  can  tell  me  everything  I  don't  want  to  know,  about 
the  collision  and  destruction  of  planets,  they  are  not  entirely 
clear  on  the  subject  either  of  the  diffusion  of  a  drop  of  honey 
from  its  comb,  or  the  confusion  of  a  rivulet  among  its  cresses. 
Of  which  difficult  matters,  I  will  therefore  reserve  inquiry  to 
another  chapter  ;  anticipating,  however,  its  conclusions,  for 
the  reader's  better  convenience,  by  the  brief  statement,  that 
glacier  ice  has  no  power  of  springing  whatever  ; — that  it  can- 
not descend  into  a  rock-hollow,  and  sweep  out  the  bottom  of 
it,  as  a  cascade  or  a  wave  can  ;  but  must  always  sluggishly  fill 
it  to  the  brim  before  flowing  over ;  and  accumulate,  beneath, 
under  dead  ice,  quiet  as  the  depths  of  a  mountain  tarn,  the 
fallen  ruins  of  its  colossal  shore. 

*  Or  a  stick  of  sealing-wax.  Warm  one  at  the  fire  slowly  through  ; 
and  "bend  it  into  the  form  of  a  horseshoe.  You  will  then  see,  through 
a  lens  of  moderate  power,  the  most  exquisite  facsimiles  of  glacier  fissure 
produced  by  extension,  on  its  convex  surface,  and  as  faithful  image  of 
glacier  surge  produced  by  compression,  on  its  concave  one. 

In  the  course  of  such  extension,  the  substance  of  the  ice  is  actually 
expanded,  (see  above,  Chap.  IV.,  §  7,)  by  the  widening  of  every  minute 
fissure  ;  and  in  the  course  of  such  compression,  reduced  to  apparently 
solid  ice,  by  their  closing.  The  experiments  both  of  Forbes  and  Agassiz 
appear  to  indicate  that  the  original  fissures  are  never  wholly  effaced  by 
compression  :  but  I  do  not  myself  know  how  far  the  supposed  result  of 
these  experiments  may  be  consistent  with  ascertained  phenomena  of 
regelation. 

f  I  have  received  opportune  and  kind  help,  from  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic  waves,  in  a  study  of  them  by  my  friend  Professor  Rood. 


62 


DEUCALION. 


CHAPTEE  VXX. 

THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 

Lecture  given  at  the  London  Institution,  February  11th  and 
March  2Sth,  1876,* — the  subject  announced  being,  "And 

THE  GOLD  OF  THAT  LAND  IS  GOOD  :  THERE  IS  BDELLIUM  AND 
THE  ONYX  STONE." 

L  The  subject  which  you  permit  me  the  pleasure  of  illustrat- 
ing to  you  this  evening,  namely,  the  symbolic  use  of  the  colours 
of  precious  stones  in  heraldry,  will,  I  trust,  not  interest  you 
less  because  forming  part  both  of  the  course  of  education  in 
art  which  I  have  been  permitted  to  found  in  Oxford  ;  and  of 
that  in  physical  science,  which  I  am  about  to  introduce  in  the 
Museum  for  working  men  at  Sheffield. 

I  say  'to  introduce,'  not  as  having  anything  novel  to  teach, 
or  show ;  for  in  the  present  day  I  think  novelty  the  worst  ene- 
my of  knowledge,  and  my  introductions  are  only  of  things 
forgotten.  And  I  am  compelled  to  be  pertinaciously — it  might 
even  seem,  insolently,  separate  in  effort  from  any  who  would 
help  me,  just  because  I  am  resolved  that  no  pupil  of  mine  shall 
see  anything,  or  learn,  but  what  the  consent  of  the  past  has  ad- 
mitted to  be  beautiful,  and  the  experience  of  the  past  has  as- 
certained to  be  true.  During  the  many  thousand  years  of  this 
world's  existence  the  persons  living  upon  it  have  produced 
more  lovely  things  than  any  of  us  can  ever  see  ;  and  have  as- 
certained more  profitable  things  that  any  of  us  can  ever  know. 
Of  these  infinitely  existing,  beautiful  things,  I  show  to  my 
pupils  as  many  as  they  can  thoroughly  see, — not  more  ;  and 
of  the  natural  facts  which  are  positively  known,  I  urge  them 
to  know  as  many  as  they  can  thoroughly  know, — not  more ; 
and  absolutely  forbid  all  debate  whatsoever.  The  time  for 
debate  is  when  we  have  become  masters — not  while  we  are 

*  The  abrupt  interpolation  of  this  lecture  in  the  text  of  Deucalion  is 
explained  in  the  next  chapter. 


THE  IRIS  OF  TIIE  EARTH. 


63 


students.  And  the  wisest  of  masters  are  those  who  debate 
least. 

2.  For  my  own  part — holding  myself  nothing  better  than 
an  advanced  student,  guiding  younger  ones, — I  never  waste  a 
moment  of  life  in  dispute,  or  discussion.  It  is  at  least  ten 
years  since  I  ceased  to  speak  of  anything  but  what  I  had  as- 
certained ;  and  thus  becoming,  as  far  as  I  know,  the  most  prac- 
tical and  positive  of  men,  left  discourse  of  things  doubtful  to 
those  whose  pleasure  is  in  quarrel ; — content,  for  my  pupils 
and  myself,  to  range  all  matters  under  the  broad  head  of  things 
certain,  with  which  we  are  vitally  concerned,  and  things  un- 
certain, which  don't  in  the  least  matter. 

3.  In  the  working  men's  museum  at  Sheffield,  then,  I  mean 
to  place  illustrations  of  entirely  fine  metal-work,  including 
niello  and  engraving  ;  and  of  the  stones,  and  the  Flora  and 
Fauna,  of  Yorkshire,  Derbyshire,  Durham,  and  "Westmore- 
land ;  *  together  with  such  foreign  examples  as  may  help  to 
the  better  understanding  of  what  we  have  at  home.  But  in 
teaching  metal-work,  I  am  obliged  to  exhibit,  not  the  uses  of 
iron  and  steel  only,  but  those  also  of  the  most  precious  metals, 
and  their  history ;  and  for  the  understanding  of  any  sort  of 
stones,  I  must  admit  precious  stones,  and  their  history.  The 
first  elements  of  both  these  subjects,  I  hope  it  may  not  be  un- 
interesting to  follow  out  with  me  this  evening. 

4.  I  have  here,  in  my  right  hand,  a  little  round  thing,  and 
in  my  left  a  little  flat  one,  about  which,  and  the  like  of  them, 
it  is  my  first  business  to  explain,  in  Sheffield,  what  may  posi- 
tively be  known.  They  have  long  been,  both,  to  me,  subjects 
of  extreme  interest ;  and  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  I  know 
more  about  them  than  most  people  :  but  that,  having  learned 
what  I  can,  the  happy  feeling  of  wonder  is  always  increasing 
upon  me — how  little  that  is !  What  an  utter  mystery  both 
the  little  things  still  are ! 

5.  This  first — in  my  right  hand — is  what  we  call  a  '  pebble,'  f 
or  rolled  flint,  presumably  out  of  Kensington  gravel-pits.  I 
picked  it  up  in  the  Park, — the  first  that  lay  loose,  inside  the 

*  Properly,  Westmoreland,  the  district  of  Western  Meres, 
f  I.  A.  i.  Sheffield  Museum ;  see  Chapter  VIII. 


64 


DEUCALION, 


railings,  at  the  little  gate  entering  from  Norfolk  Street.  1 
shall  send  it  to  Sheffield  ;  knowing  that  like  the  bit  of  lead 
picked  up  by  Saadi  in  the  'Arabian  Nights/  it  will  make  the 
fortune  of  Sheffield,  scientifically, — if  Sheffield  makes  the  most 
of  it,  and  thoroughly  learns  what  it  is. 

6.  What  it  is,  I  say — you  observe  ;  not  merely,  what  it  is 
made  of  Anybody — the  pitifullest  apothecary  round  the 
corner,  with  a  beggarly  account  of  empty  boxes — can  tell  you 
that.  It  is  made  of  brown  stuff  called  silicon,  and  oxygen, 
and  a  little  iron  :  and  so  any  apothecary  can  tell  what  you  all 
who  are  sitting  there  are  made  of  : — you,  and  I,  and  all  of  us, 
are  made  of  carbon,  nitrogen,  lime,  and  phosphorus,  and 
seventy  per  cent,  or  rather  more  of  water  ;  but  then,  that 
doesn't  tell  us  what  we  are, — what  a  child  is,  or  what  a  boy 
is, — much  less  what  a  man  is, — least  of  all,  what  supremely 
inexplicable  woman  is.  And  so,  in  knowing  only  what  it  is 
made  of,  we  don't  know  what  a  flint  is. 

7.  To  know  what  it  is,  we  must  know  what  it  can  do,  and 
suffer. 

That  it  can  strike,  steel  into  white-hot  fire,  but  can  itself  be 
melted  down  like  water,  if  mixed  with  ashes  ;  that  it  is 
subject  to  lawTs  of  form  one  jot  of  which  it  cannot  violate,  and 
yet  which  it  can  continually  evade,  and  apparently  disobey  ; 
that  in  the  fulfilment  of  these  it  becomes  pure, — in  rebellion 
against  them,  foul  and  base  ;  that  it  is  appointed  on  our 
island  coast  to  endure  for  countless  ages,  fortifying  the  sea 
cliff ;  and  on  the  brow  of  that  very  cliff,  every  spring,  to  be 
dissolved,  that  the  green  blades  of  corn  may  drink  it  with  the 
dew ; — that  in  its  noblest  forms  it  is  still  imperfect,  and  in 
the  meanest,  still  honorable, — this,  if  we  have  rightly  learned, 
we  begin  to  know  what  a  flint  is. 

8.  And  of  this  other  thing,  in  my  left  hand, — this  flat  bit 
of  yellow  mineral  matter, — commonly  called  a  'sovereign,' 
not  indeed  to  be  picked  up  so  easily  as  the  other — (though 
often,  by  rogues,  with  small  pains  ;) — yet  familiar  enough  to 
the  sight  of  most  of  us,  and  too  familiar  to  our  thought, — 
there  perhaps  are  the  like  inquiries  to  be  put.  What  is  it  ? 
What  can  it  do  ;  and  for  whom  ?    This  shape  given  to  it  by 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 


men,  bearing  the  image  of  a  Caesar  ; — how  far  does  this  make 
it  a  thing  which  is  Caesar's  ?  the  opposed  image  of  a  saint, 
riding  against  a  dragon — how  far  does  this  make  it  a  thing 
which  is  of  Saints?  Is  its  testimony  true,  or  conceivably 
true,  on  either  side  ?  Are  there  yet  Caesars  ruling  us,  or 
saints  saving  us,  to  whom  it  does  of  right  belong  ? 

9.  And  the  substance  of  it, — not  separable,  this,  into  others, 
but  a  pure  element, — what  laws  are  over  it,  other  than 
Caesar's ;  what  forms  must  it  take,  of  its  own,  in  eternal 
obedience  to  invisible  power,  if  it  escape  our  human  ham- 
mer-stroke ?  How  far,  in  its  own  shape,  or  in  this,  is  it  itself 
a  Caesar  ;  inevitable  in  authority  ;  secure  of  loyalty,  loveable, 
and  meritorious  of  love  ?  For,  reading  its  past  history,  we 
find  it  has  been  much  beloved,  righteously  or  iniquitously, — 
a  thing  to  be  known  the  grounds  of,  surely  ? 

10.  Nay,  also  of  this  dark  and  despised  thing  in  my  right 
hand,  we  must  ask  that  higher  question,  has  it  ever  been  be- 
loved? And  finding  in  its  past  history  that  in  its  pure  and 
loyal  forms,  of  amethyst,  opal,  crystal,  jasper,  and  onyx,  it 
also  has  been  much  beloved  of  men,  shall  we  not  ask  farther 
whether  it  deserves  to  be  beloved, — whether  in  wisdom  or 
folly,  equity  or  inequity,  we  give  our  affections  to  glittering 
shapes  of  clay,  and  found  our  fortunes  on  fortitudes  of  stone  ; 
and  carry  down  from  lip  to  lip,  and  teach,  the  father  to  the 
child,  as  a  sacred  tradition,  that  the  Power  which  made  us, 
and  preserves,  gave  also  with  the  leaves  of  the  earth  for  our 
food,  and  the  streams  of  the  earth  for  our  thirst,  so  also  the 
dust  of  the  earth  for  our  delight  and  possession  :  bidding  the 
first  of  the  Rivers  of  Paradise  roll  stainless  waves  over 
radiant  sands,  and  writing,  by  the  word  of  the  Spirit,  of  the 
Rocks  that  it  divided,  "  The  gold  of  that  land  is  good  ;  there 
also  is  the  crystal,  and  the  onyx  stone." 

11.  Before  I  go  on,  I  must  justify  to  you  the  familiar  word 
I  have  used  for  the  rare  one  in  the  text. 

If  with  mere  curiosity,  or  ambitious  scholarship,  you  were 
to  read  the  commentators  on  the  Pentateuch,  you  might 
spend,  literally,  many  years  of  life,  on  the  discussions  as  to 
the  kinds  of  the  gems  named  in  it  ;  and  be  no  wiser  at  the 
5 


66 


DEUCALION. 


end  than  you  were  at  the  beginning.  But  if,  honestly  and 
earnestly  desiring  to  know  the  meaning  of  the  book  itself, 
you  set  yourself  to  read  with  such  ordinary  help  as  a  good 
concordance  and  dictionary,  and  with  fair  knowledge  of  the 
two  languages  in  which  the  Testaments  have  been  clearly 
given  to  us,  you  may  find  out  all  you  need  know,  in  an  hour. 

12,  The  word  '  bdellium  '  occurs  only  twice  in  the  Old 
Testament :  here,  and  in  the  book  of  Numbers,  where  you 
are  told  the  manna  was  of  the  colour  or  look  of  bdellium. 
There,  the  Septuagint  uses  for  it  the  word  icpwraAAos,  crystal, 
or  more  properly  anything  congealed  by  cold  ;  and  in  the 
other  account  of  the  manna,  in  Exodus,  you  are  told  that, 
after  the  dew  round  the  camp  was  gone  up,  "  there  lay  a 
small  round  thing — as  small  as  the  hoar-frost  upon  the 
ground."  Until  I  heard  from  my  friend  Mr.  Tyrrwhitt*  of 
the  cold  felt  at  night  in  camping  on  Sinai,  I  could  not  under- 
stand how  deep  the  feeling  of  the  Arab,  no  less  than  the 
Greek,  must  have  been  respecting  the  divine  gift  of  the  dew, 
— nor  with  what  sense  of  thankfulness  for  miraculous  bless- 
ing the  question  of  Job  would  be  uttered,  "  The  hoary  frost 
of  heaven,  who  hath  gendered  it  ? "  Then  compare  the  first 
words  of  the  blessing  of  Isaac  :  "  God  give  thee  of  the  dew 
of  heaven,  and  of  the  fatness  of  earth ;  "  and,  again,  the  first 
words  of  the  song  of  Moses  :  "  Give  ear,  oh  ye  heavens, — for 
my  speech  shall  distil  as  the  dew  ; "  and  you  will  see  at  once 
why  this  heavenly  food  was  made  to  shine  clear  in  the  desert, 
like  an  enduring  of  its  dew  ; — Divine  remaining  for  continual 
need.    Frozen,  as  the  Alpine  snow — pure  for  ever. 

13.  Seize  firmly  that  first  idea  of  the  manna,  as  the  type 
of  the  bread  which  is  the  Word  of  God  ;  f  and  then  look  on 

*  See  some  admirable  sketches  of  travelling  in  the  Peninsula  of  Sinai9 
by  this  writer,  in  1  Vacation  Tourists,'  Macmillan,  1864.  "I  still  re- 
member," he  adds  in  a  private  letter  to  me,  ' '  that  the  frozen  towels 
stood  on  their  edges  as  stiff  as  biscuits.  By  11  A.M.  the  thermometer 
had  risen  to  85°,  and  was  still  rising." 

f  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  in  his  translation  of  the  &prov  ovpavov  of  the 
105th  Psalm,  completes  the  entire  range  of  idea, 

M  Himself,  from  skies,  their  hunger  to  repel, 
Candies  the  grasse  with  sweete  congealed  dew." 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH 


67 


for  the  English  word  '  crystal'  in  Job,  of  Wisdom,  "It  cannot 
be  valued  with  the  gold  of  Ophir,  with  the  precious  onyx,  or 
*he  sapphire  :  the  gold  and  the  crystal  shall  not  equal  it,  neither 
shall  it  be  valued  with  pure  gold  ;"  in  Ezekiel,  "  firmament  of 
the  terrible  crystal,"  or  in  the  Apocalypse,  "  A  sea  of  glass, 
like  unto  crystal, — water  of  life,  clear  as  crystal," — "  light  of 
the  city  like  a  stone  most  precious,  even  like  a  jasper  stone, 
clear  as  crystal."  Your  understanding  the  true  meaning  of 
all  these  passages  depends  on  your  distinct  conception  of  the 
permanent  clearness  and  hardness  of  the  Rock-crystal.  You 
may  trust  me  to  tell  you  quickly,  in  this  matter,  what  you  may 
all  for  yourselves  discover  if  you  will  read. 

14.  The  three  substances  named  here  in  the  first  account 
of  Paradise,  stand  generally  as  types — the  Gold  of  all  precious 
metals  ;  the  Crystal  of  all  clear  precious  stones  prized  for 
lustre;  the  Onyx  of  all  opaque  precious  stones  prized  for 
colour.  And  to  mark  this  distinction  as  a  vital  one, — in  each 
case  when  the  stones  to  be  set  for  the  tabernacle-service  are 
named,  the  onyx  is  named  separately.  The  Jewish  rulers 
brought  "onyx  stones,  and  stones  to  be  set  for  the  ephod,  and 
for  the  breastplate."*  And  the  onyx  is  used  thrice,  while 
every  other  stone  is  used  only  once,  in  the  High  Priest's  robe  ; 
two  onyxes  on  the  shoulders,  bearing  the  twelve  names  of  the 
tribes,  six  on  each  stone,  (Exod.  xxviii.  9,  10,)  and  one  in  the 
breast-plate,  with  its  separate  name  of  one  tribe,  (Exod.  xxviii. 
20.) 

15.  a.  Now  note  the  importance  of  this  grouping.  The 
Gold,  or  precious  metal,  is  significant  of  all  that  the  power  of 
the  beautiful  earth,  gold,  and  of  the  strong  earth,  iron,  has 
done  for  and  against  man.  How  much  evil  I  need  not  say. 
How  much  good  is  a  question  I  will  endeavour  to  show  some 
evidence  on  forthwith. 

b.  The  Crystal  is  significant  of  all  the  power  that  jewels, 
from  diamonds  down  through  every  Indian  gem  to  the  glass 
beads  which  we  now  make  for  ball-dresses,  have  had  over  the 
imagination  and  economy  of  men  and  women — from  the  day 

*  Exod.  xxv.  7,  xxxv.  27,  comparing  Job  above  quoted,  and  Ezekie* 
xxviii.  13. 


68 


DEUCALION. 


that  Adam  drank  of  the  water  of  the  crystal  river  to  this  hour. 
How  much  evil  that  is,  you  partially  know  ;  how  much  good, 
we  have  to  consider. 

c.  The  Onyx  is  the  type  of  ail  stones  arranged  in  bands  of 
different  colours ;  it  means  primarily,  nail-stone — showing  a 
separation  like  the  white  half-crescent  at  the  root  of  the  fin- 
ger-nail ;  not  without  some  idea  of  its  subjection  to  laws  of 
Jife.  Of  these  stones,  part,  which  are  flinty,  are  the  material 
used  for  cameos  and  all  manner  of  engraved  work  and  pietra 
dura  ;  but  in  the  great  idea  of  banded  or  belted  stones,  they 
include  the  whole  range  of  marble,  and  especially  alabaster, 
giving  the  name  to  the  alabastra,  or  vases  used  especially  for 
the  containing  of  precious  unguents,  themselves  more  pre- 
cious ;  *  so  that  this  stone,  as  best  representative  of  all  others, 
is  chosen  to  be  the  last  gift  of  men  to  Christ,  as  gold  is  their 
first ;  incense  with  both  :  at  His  birth,  gold  and  frankincense  ; 
at  His  death,  alabaster  and  spikenard. 

16.  The  two  sources  of  the  material  wealth  of  all  nations 
were  thus  offered  to  the  King  of  men  in  their  simplicity.  But 
their  power  among  civilized  nations  has  been  owing  to  their 
workmanship.  And  if  we  are  to  ask  whether  the  gold  and  the 
stones  are  to  be  holy,  much  more  have  we  to  ask  if  the  worker 
in  gold,  and  the  worker  in  stone,  are  to  be  conceived  as  exer- 
cising holy  function. 

17.  Now,  as  we  ask  of  a  stone,  to  know  what  it  is,  what  it 
can  do,  or  suffer,  so  of  a  human  creature,  to  know  what  it  is, 
we  ask  what  it  can  do,  or  suffer. 

So  that  we  have  two  scientific  questions  put  to  us,  in  this 
matter  :  how  the  stones  came  to  be  what  they  are — or  the  law 
of  Crystallization  ;  and  how  the  jewellers  came  to  be  what  they 
are — or  the  law  of  Inspiration.  You  see  how  vital  this  ques- 
tion is  to  me,  beginning  now  actually  to  give  my  laws  of  Flor- 
entine art  in  English  Schools  !  How  can  artists  be  made 
artists, — in  gold  and  in  precious  stones?  whether  in  the 
desert,  or  the  city? — and  if  in  the  city,  whether,  as  at  Jerusa- 
lem, so  also  in  Florence,  Paris,  or  London  ? 

*  Compare  the  "  Nardi  parvos  onyx,"  which  was  to  be  Virgil's  feast- 
gift,  in  spring,  to  Horace. 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH, 


69 


Must  we  at  this  present  time,  think  you,  order  the  jewellers, 
whom  we  wish  to  teach,  merely  to  study  and  copy  the  best 
results  of  past  fashion  ?  or  are  we  to  hope  that  some  day  or 
other,  if  we  behave  rightly,  and  take  care  of  our  jewels  prop- 
erly, we  shall  be  shown  also  how  to  set  them  ;  and  that, 
merely  substituting  modern  names  for  ancient  ones,  some 
divine  message  will  come  to  our  craftsmen,  such  as  this : 
'  See,  I  have  called  by  name  Messrs.  Hunt  and  Eoskell,  and 
Messrs.  London  and  Kyder,  and  I  have  filled  them  with  the 
Spirit  of  God,  in  wisdom  and  in  understanding,  and  in  all 
manner  of  workmanship,  to  work  in  gold,  and  in  silver,  and 
in  brass,  and  in  cutting  of  stones '  ? 

18.  This  sentence,  which,  I  suppose,  becomes  startling  to 
your  ear  in  the  substitution  of  modern  for  ancient  names,  is 
the  first,  so  far  as  I  know,  distinctly  referring  to  the  ancient 
methods  of  instruction  in  the  art  of  jewellery.  So  also  the 
words  which  I  have  chosen  for  the  title  (or,  as  perhaps  some 
of  my  audience  may  regretfully  think  it  should  be  called,  the 
text,)  of  my  lecture,  are  the  first  I  know  that  give  any  account 
of  the  formation  or  existence  of  jewels.  So  that  the  same 
tradition,  whatever  its  value,  wThich  gave  us  the  commands  we 
profess  to  obey  for  our  moral  law,  implies  also  the  necessity 
of  inspired  instruction  for  the  proper  practice  of  the  art  of 
jewellery  ;  and  connects  the  richness  of  the  earth  in  gold  and 
jewels  with  the  pleasure  of  Heaven  that  we  should  use  them 
under  its  direction.  The  scientific  mind  will  of  course  draw 
back  in  scorn  from  the  idea  of  such  possibility  ;  but  then,  the 
scientific  mind  can  neither  design,  itself,  nor  perceive  the 
power  of  design  in  others.  And  practically  you  will  find  that 
all  noble  design  in  jewellery  whatsoever,  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world  till  now,  has  been  either  instinctive, — done,  that 
is  to  say,  by  tutorship  of  nature,  with  the  innocent  felicity  and 
security  of  purely  animal  art, — Etruscan,  Irish,  Indian,  or 
Peruvian  gold  being  interwoven  with  a  fine  and  unerring 
grace  of  industry,  like  the  touch  of  the  bee  on  its  cell  and  of 
the  bird  on  her  nest, — or  else,  has  been  wrought  into  its  finer 
forms,  under  the  impulse  of  religion  in  sacred  service,  in 
crosier,  chalice,  and  lamp  ;  and  that  the  best  beauty  of  its 


70 


DEUCALION. 


profane  service  has  been  debased  from  these.  And  the  three 
greatest  masters  of  design  in  jewellery,  the  '  facile  principes 
of  the  entire  European  School,  are — centrally,  the  one  who 
definitely  worked  always  with  appeal  for  inspiration — Angel- 
ico  of  Fesole  ;  and  on  each  side  of  him,  the  two  most  earnest 
reformers  of  the  morals  of  the  Christian  Church — Holbein  and 
Sandro  Botticelli. 

19.  I  have  first  answered  this,  the  most  close  home  of  the 
questions, — how  men  come  to  be  jewellers.  Next,  how  do 
stones  come  to  be  jewels  ?  It  seems  that  by  all  religious,  no 
less  than  all  profane,  teaching  or  tradition,  these  substances 
are  asserted  to  be  precious, — useful  to  man,  and  sacred  to 
God.  Whether  we  have  not  made  them  deadly  instead  of 
useful,  and  sacrificed  them  to  devils  instead  of  God, — you 
may  consider  at  another  time.  To-night,  I  would  examine 
only  a  little  wray  the  methods  in  which  they  are  prepared  by 
nature,  for  such  service  as  they  are  capable  of. 

20.  There  are  three  great  laws  by  which  they,  and  the 
metals  they  are  to  be  set  in,  are  prepared  for  us ;  and  at  pres- 
ent all  these  are  mysteries  to  us. 

I.  The  first,  the  mystery  by  which  "  surely  there  is  a  vein 
for  the  silver,  and  a  place  for  the  gold  whence  *  they  fine  it." 
No  geologist,  no  scientific  person  whatsoever,  can  tell  you 
how  this  gold  under  my  hand  was  brought  into  this  cleft  in 
the  bdellium ;  f  no  one  knows  where  it  was  before,  or  how  it 
got  here :  one  thing  only  seems  to  be  manifest — that  it  was 
not  here  always.  This  white  bdellium  itself  closes  rents,  and 
fills  hollows,  in  rocks  which  had  to  be  rent  before  they  could 
be  rejoined,  and  hollowed  before  they  could  be  refilled.  But 
no  one  hitherto  has  been  able  to  say  where  the  gold  first  was, 
or  by  what  process  it  came  into  this  its  resting-place.  First 
mystery,  then, — that  there  is  a  vein  for  the  silver  and  a  place 
for  the  gold. 

II.  The  second  mystery  is  that  of  crystallization  ;  by  which, 
obeying  laws  no  less  arbitrary  than  those  by  which  the  bee 
builds  her  cell — the  water  produced  by  the  sweet  miracles  of 

*  *  Whence,'  not  4  where/  they  sift  or  wash  it :  odev  $(q0€<rai,  LXX. 
f  20.  A.  1.  Sheffield  Museum. 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 


71 


cloud  and  spring  freezes  into  the  hexagonal  stars  of  the  hoar- 
frost ; — the  flint,  which  can  be  melted  and  diffused  like  water, 
freezes  also,  like  water,  into  these  hexagonal  towers  of  everlast- 
ing ice ;  *  and  the  clay,  which  can  be  dashed  on  the  potter's 
wheel  as  it  pleaseth  the  potter  to  make  it,  can  be  frozen  by 
the  touch  of  Heaven  into  the  hexagonal  star  of  Heaven's  own 
colour — the  sapphire. 

HI.  The  third  mystery,  the  gathering  of  crystals  themselves 
into  ranks  or  bands,  by  which  Scotch  pebbles  are  made,  not 
only  is  at  present  unpierced,  but — which  is  a  wonderful  thing 
in  the  present  century — it  is  even  untalked  about.  There  has 
been  much  discussion  as  to  the  nature  of  metallic  veins  ;  and 
books  have  been  written  with  indefatigable  industry,  and 
splendid  accumulation  of  facts,  on  the  limits,  though  never 
on  the  methods,  of  eiystallization.  But  of  the  structure  of 
banded  stones  not  a  word  is  ever  said,  and,  popularly,  less 
than  nothing  known  ;  there  being  many  very  false  notions 
current  respecting  them,  in  the  minds  even  of  good  mineralo- 
gists. 

And  the  basis  of  what  I  find  to  be  ascertainable  about 
them,  may  be  told  with  small  stress  to  your  patience. 

21.  I  have  here  in  my  hand,f  a  pebble  which  used  to  deco- 
rate the  chimney-piece  of  the  children's  playroom  in  my  aunts 
house  at  Perth,  when  I  was  seven  years  old,  just  half  a  cen- 
tury ago  ;  which  pebble  having  come  out  of  the  hill  of  Kin- 
noull,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Tay,  I  show  you  because  I 
know  so  well  where  it  came  from,  and  can  therefore  answer 
for  its  originality  and  genuineness. 

22.  The  hill  of  Kinnoull,  like  all  the  characteristic  crags  or 
craigs  of  central  Scotland,  is  of  a  basaltic  lava — in  which, 
however,  more  specially  than  in  most  others,  these  balls  of 
pebble  form  themselves.  And  of  these,  in  their  first  and 
simplest  state,  you  may  think  as  little  pieces  of  flint  jelly, 
filling  the  pores  or  cavities  of  the  rock. 

Without  insisting  too  strictly  on  the  analogy — for  Nature 
is  so  various  in  her  operations  that  you  are  sure  to  be  de- 

*  I.  Q.  11.  Sheffield  Museum, 
f  t  A.  8.  Sheffield  Museum. 


72 


DEUCALION. 


ceived  if  you  ever  think  one  process  has  been  in  all  respects 
like  another — you  may  yet  in  most  respects  think  of  the  whole 
substance  of  the  rock  as  a  kind  of  brown  bread,  volcanically 
baked,  the  pores  and  cavities  of  which,  when  it  has  risen,  are 
filled  with  agate  or  onyx  jelly,  as  the  similar  pores  of  a  slice 
of  quartern  loaf  are  filled  with  butter,  if  the  cook  has  spread 
it  in  a  hurry. 

23.  I  use  this  simile  with  more  satisfaction,  because,  in  the 
course  of  last  autumn,  I  was  making  some  practical  experi- 
ments on  glacial  motion — the  substances  for  experiment  be- 
ing supplied  to  me  in  any  degree  of  congelation  or  regelation 
which  might  be  required,  by  the  perfectly  angelic  cook  of  a 
country  friend,  who  not  only  gave  me  the  run  of  her  kitchen, 
but  allowed  me  to  make  domical  mountains  of  her  best  dish- 
covers,  and  tortuous  valleys  of  her  finest  napkins ; — under 
which  altogether  favourable  conditions,  and  being  besides 
supplied  with  any  quality  of  ice-cream  and  blancmange,  in 
every  state  of  frost  and  thaw,  I  got  more  beautiful  results, 
both  respecting  glacier  motion,  and  interstratified  rocks,  than 
a  year's  work  would  have  reached  by  unculinary  analysis. 
Keeping,  however — as  I  must  to-night — to  our  present  ques- 
tion, I  have  here  a  piece  of  this  baked  volcanic  rock,  which  is 
as  full  of  agate  pebbles  as  a  plum-pudding  is  of  currants ; 
each  of  these  agate  pebbles  consisting  of  a  clear  green  chalce- 
dony, with  balls  of  banded  agate  formed  in  the  midst,  or  at 
the  sides  of  them.    This  diagram  *  represents  one  enlarged. 

And  you  have  there  one  white  ball  of  agate,  floating  appar- 
ently in  the  green  pool,  and  a  larger  ball,  which  is  cut  through 
by  the  section  of  the  stone,  and  shows  you  the  banded  struct- 
ure in  the  most  exquisite  precision. 

24.  Now,  there  is  no  doubt  as  to  the  possible  formation  of 
these  balls  in  melted  vitreous  substance  as  it  cools,  because 
we  get  them  in  glass  itself,  when  gradually  cooled  in  old 
glass-houses ;  and  there  is  no  more  difficulty  in  accounting 
for  the  formation  of  round  agate  balls  of  this  character  than 
for  that  of  common  globular  chalcedony.  But  the  difficulty 
begins  when  the  jelly  is  not  allowed  to  remain  quiet,  but  can 

*  This  drawing  is  in  Sheffield  Museum. 


Plate  III— -Mural  Agates. 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 


73 


run  about  while  it  is  crystallizing.  Then  you  get  glutinous 
forms  that  choke  cavities  in  the  rock,  in  which  the  chalcedony 
slowly  runs  down  the  sides,  and  forms  a  level  lake  at  the  bot- 
tom ;  and  sometimes  you  get  the  whole  cavity  filled  with  lake 
poured  over  lake,  the  liquid  one  over  the  frozen,  floor  and 
walls  at  last  encrusted  with  onyx  fit  for  kings'  signets.* 

25.  Of  the  methods  of  engraving  this  stone,  and  of  its  gen- 
eral uses  and  values  in  ancient  and  modern  days,  you  will 
find  all  that  can  interest  you,  admirably  told  by  Mr.  King,  in 
his  book  on  precious  stones  and  gems,  to  which  I  owe  most 
of  the  little  I  know  myself  on  this  subject. 

To-night,  I  would  only  once  more  direct  your  attention  to 
that  special  use  of  it  in  the  dress  of  the  Jewish  High  Priest  ; 
that  while,  as  one  of  the  twelve  stones  of  the  breastplate,  it 
was  engraved  like  the  rest  wdth  the  name  of  a  single  tribe,  two 
larger  onyxes  were  used  for  the  shoulder-studs  of  the  ephod  ; 
and  on  these,  the  names  of  all  the  twelve  tribes  were  engraved, 
six  upon  each.  I  do  not  infer  from  this  use  of  the  onyx,  how- 
ever, any  pre-eminence  of  value,  or  isolation  of  symbolism,  in 
the  stone  ;  I  suppose  it  to  have  been  set  apart  for  the  more 
laborious  piece  of  engraving,  simply  because  larger  surfaces 
of  it  were  attainable  than  of  true  gems,  and  its  substance  was 
more  easily  cut.  I  suppose  the  bearing  of  the  names  on  the 
shoulder  to  be  symbolical  of  the  priest's  sacrificial  office  in 
bearing  the  guilt  and  pain  of  the  people  ;  while  the  bearing 
of  them  on  the  breast  was  symbolical  of  his  pastoral  office  in 
teaching  them  :  but,  except  in  the  broad  distinction  between 
gem  and  onyx,  it  is  impossible  now  to  state  wTith  any  certainty 
the  nature  or  meaning  of  the  stones,  confused  as  they  have 
been  by  the  most  fantastic  speculation  of  vain  Jewish  writers 
themselves. 

There  is  no  such  difficulty  when  we  pass  to  the  inquiry  as 
to  the  use  of  these  stones  in  Christian  Heraldry,  on  the  breast- 
plate and  shield  of  the  Knight ;  for  that  use  is  founded  on 
natural  relations  of  colour,  which  cannot  be  changed,  and 
which  will  become  of  more  and  more  importance  to  mankind 

*  I  am  obliged  to  omit,  here  the  part  of  the  lecture  referring  to  dia- 
grams.   It  will  be  given  in  greater  detail  in  the  subsequent  text. 


74 


DEUCALION. 


in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  Christian  Knighthood, 
once  proudly  faithful  to  Death,  in  War,  becomes  humbly 
faithful  to  Life,  in  Peace. 

28.  To  these  natural  relations  of  colour,  the  human  sight, 
in  health,  is  joyfully  sensitive,  as  the  ear  is  to  the  harmonies 
of  sound  ;  but  what  healthy  sight  is,  you  may  well  suppose,  I 
have  not  time  to  define  to-night  ; — the  nervous  power  of  the 
eye,  and  its  delight  in  the  pure  hues  of  colour  presented 
either  by  the  opal,  or  by  wild  flowers,  being  dependent  on  the 
perfect  purity  of  the  blood  supplied  to  the  brain,  as  well  as  on 
the  entire  soundness  of  the  nervous  tissue  to  which  that  blood 
is  supplied.  And  how  much  is  required,  through  the  thoughts 
and  conduct  of  generations,  to  make  the  new  blood  of  our 
race  of  children  pure — it  is  for  your  physicians  to  tell  you, 
when  they  have  themselves  discovered  this  medicinal  truth, 
that  the  divine  laws  of  the  life  of  Men  cannot  be  learned  in 
the  pain  and  death  of  Brutes. 

27.  The  natural  and  unchangeable  system  of  visible  colour 
has  been  lately  confused,  in  the  minds  of  all  students,  partly 
by  the  pedantry  of  unnecessary  science  ;  partly  by  the  for- 
malism of  illiberal  art :  for  all  practical  service,  it  may  be 
stated  in  a  very  few  words,  and  expressed  in  a  very  simple 
diagram. 

28.  There  are  three  primary  colours,  Ked,  Blue,  and  Yel- 
low ;  three  secondary,  formed  by  the  union  of  any  two  of 
these  ;  and  one  tertiary,  formed  by  the  union  of  all  three. 

If  we  admitted,  as  separate  colours,  the  different  tints  pro- 
duced by  varying  proportions  of  the  composing  tints,  there 
would  of  course  be  an  infinite  number  of  secondaries,  and  a 
wider  infinitude  of  tertiaries.  But  tints  can  be  systematically 
arranged  only  by  the  elements  of  them,  not  the  proportions 
of  those  elements.  Green  is  only  green,  whether  there  be 
less  or  more  of  blue  in  it ;  purple  only  purple,  whether  there 
be  less  or  more  of  red  in  it ;  scarlet  only  scarlet,  whether 
there  be  less  or  more  of  yellow  in  it ;  and  the  tertiary  gray 
only  gray,  in  whatever  proportions  the  three  primaries  are 
combined  in  it. 

29.  The  diagram  used  in  my  drawing  schools  to  express 


THE  IBIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 


75 


the  system  of  these  colours  will  be  found  coloured  in  the 
'  Laws  of  Fesole  ' :— this  figure  will  serve  our  present  pur- 
pose.* 

The  simple  trefoil  produced  by  segments  of  three  circles 
in  contact,  is  inscribed  in  a  curvilinear  equilateral  triangle. 
Nine  small  circles  are  set,— three  in  the  extremities  of  the 
foils,  three  on  their  cusps,  three  in  the  angles  of  the  triangle. 


The  circles  numbered  1  to  3  are  coloured  with  the  primi- 
tive colours  ;  4  to  6,  with  the  secondaries  ;  7  with  white  ;  8 
with  black ;  and  the  9th,  with  the  tertiary,  gray. 

30.  All  the  primary  and  secondary  colours  are  capable  of 
*  Readers  interested  in  this  subject  are  sure  to  be  able  to  enlarge  and 
colour  it  for  themselves.  I  take  no  notice  of  the  new  scientific  theories 
of  primary  colour  :  because  they  are  entirely  false  as  applied  to  practi- 
cal work,  natural  or  artistic.  Golden  light  in  blue  sky  makes  green 
sky  ;  but  green  sky  and  red  clouds  can't  make  yellow  sky. 


76 


DEUCALION. 


infinitely  various  degrees  of  intensity  or  depression  :  they  pass 
through  every  degree  of  increasing  light,  to  perfect  light,  or 
white  ;  and  of  increasing  shade,  to  perfect  absence  of  light, 
or  black.  And  these  are  essential  in  the  harmony  required 
by  sight ;  so  that  no  group  of  colours  can  be  perfect  that  has 
not  white  in  it,  nor  any  that  has  not  black  ;  or  else  the  abate- 
ment or  modesty  of  them,  in  the  tertiary,  gray.  So  that  these 
three  form  the  limiting  angles  of  the  field,  or  cloudy  ground 
of  the  rainbow.    "I  do  set  my  bow  in  the  cloud." 

And  the  nine  colours  of  which  you  here  see  the  essential 
group,  have,  as  you  know,  been  the  messenger  Iris ;  exponents 
of  the  highest  purpose,  and  records  of  the  perfect  house- 
hold purity  and  honour  of  men,  from  the  days  when  Hesiod 
blazoned  the  shield  of  Heracles,  to  the  day  when  the  fighting 
Temeraire  led  the  line  at  Trafalgar, — the  Victory  following 
her,  with  three  flags  nailed  to  her  masts,  for  fear  one  should 
be  shot  away. 

31.  The  names  of  these  colours  in  ordinary  shields  of 
knighthood,  are  those  given  opposite,  in  the  left  hand 
column.  The  names  given  them  in  blazoning  the  shields  of 
nobles,  are  those  of  the  correspondent  gems  :  of  heraldry  by 
the  planets,  reserved  for  the  shields  of  kings,  I  have  no  time 
to  speak,  to-night,  except  incidentally. 


A.   THE  PRIMARY  COLOURS. 


1. 

2. 

3. 


Or. 

Gules. 
Azure. 


Topaz. 
Ruby. 
Sapphire. 


B.   THE  SECONDARY  COLOURS. 


4. 
5. 

6. 


Jasper. 

Emerald. 

Hyacinth. 


Purpure. 


C.   THE  TERTIARY  COLOURS. 


7. 
8. 
9. 


Argent. 

Sable. 

Colombin. 


Carbuncle. 

Diamond. 

Pearl. 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH 


77 


32.  I.  Or.  Stands  between  the  light  and  darkness ;  as  the 
sun,  who  "  rejoice th  as  a  strong  man  to  run  his  course,"  be- 
tween the  morning  and  the  evening.  Its  heraldic  name,  in 
the  shields  of  kings,  is  Sol :  the  Sun,  or  Sun  of  Justice  ;  and  it 
stands  for  the  strength  and  honour  of  all  men  who  run  their 
race  in  noble  work  ;  whose  path  "  is  as  the  shining  light,  that 
shineth  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day." 

For  theirs  are  the  works  which  are  to  shine  before  men, 
that  they  may  glorify  our  Father.  And  they  are  also  to  shine 
before  God,  so  that  with  respect  to  them,  what  was  written 
of  St.  Bernard  may  be  always  true  :  "  Opera  sancti  patris 
velut  Sol  in  conspectu  Dei." 

For  indeed  they  are  a  true  light  of  the  world,  infinitely 
more  good,  in  the  sight  of  its  Creator,  than  the  dead  flame  of 
its  sunshine  ;  and  the  discovery  of  modern  science,  that  all 
mortal  strength  is  from  the  sun,  which  has  thrown  irrational 
persons  into  stupid  atheism,  as  if  there  was  no  God  but  the 
sun,  is  indeed  the  accurate  physical  expression  of  this  truth, 
that  men,  rightly  active,  are  living  sunshine. 

II.  Gules,  (rose  colour,)  from  the  Persian  word  '  gul,' for 
the  rose.  It  is  the  exactly  central  hue  between  the  dark  red, 
and  pale  red,  or  wild-rose.  It  is  the  colour  of  love,  the  ful- 
filment of  the  joy  and  of  the  love  of  life  upon  the  earth.  And 
it  is  doubly  marked  for  this  symbol.  We  saw  earlier,  how 
the  vase  given  by  the  Madelaine  was  precious  in  its  material ; 
but  it  was  also  to  be  indicated  as  precious  in  its  form.  It  is 
not  only  the  substance,  but  the  form  of  the  Greek  urn,  which 
gives  it  nobleness  ;  and  these  vases  for  precious  perfume  were 
tall,  and  shaped  like  the  bud  of  the  rose.  So  that  the  rose- 
bud itself,  being  a  vase  filled  with  perfume,  is  called  also 
'  alabastron  ' ;  and  Pliny  uses  that  word  for  it  in  describing 
the  growth  of  the  rose. 

The  stone  of  it  is  the  Ruby. 

III.  Azure.  The  colour  of  the  blue  sky  in  the  height  of  it, 
at  noon  ; — type  of  the  fulfilment  of  all  joy  and  love  in  heaven, 
as  the  rose-colour,  of  the  fulfilment  of  all  joy  and  love  in  earth. 
And  the  stone  of  this  is  the  Sapphire  ;  and  because  the  loves  of 
Earth  and  Heaven  are  in  truth  one,  the  ruby  and  sapphire  are 


78 


DEUCALION: 


indeed  the  same  stone ;  and  they  are  coloured  as  if  by  en- 
chantment,— how,  or  with  what,  no  chemist  has  yet  shown, — 
the  one  azure,  and  the  other  rose. 

And  now  you  will  understand  why,  in  the  vision  of  the 
Lord  of  Life  to  the  Elders  of  Israel,  of  which  it  is  written, 
"Also  they  saw  God,  and  did  eat  and  drink,"  you  are  told, 
"  Under  His  feet  was  a  plinth  of  sapphire,  and,  as  it  were, 
the  body  of  Heaven  in  its  clearness." 

IV.  Ecarlate  (scarlet).  I  use  the  French  word,  because  all 
other  heraldic  words  for  colours  are  Norman-French.  The 
ordinary  heraldic  term  here  is  '  tenne  '  (tawny) ;  for  the  later 
heralds  confused  scarlet  with  gules;  but  the  colour  first 
meant  wTas  the  sacred  hue  of  human  flesh — Carnation  ; — in- 
carnation :  the  colour  of  the  body  of  man  in  its  beauty ;  of 
the  maid's  scarlet  blush  in  noble  love  ;  of  the  youth's  scarlet 
glow  in  noble  war :  the  dye  of  the  earth  into  which  heaven 
has  breathed  its  spirit : — incarnate  strength — incarnate  mod- 
esty. 

The  stone  of  it  is  the  Jasper,  which,  as  we  shall  see,  is  col- 
oured with  the  same  iron  that  colours  the  human  blood  ;  and 
thus  you  can  understand  why  on  the  throne,  in  the  vision  of 
the  returning  Christ,  "He  that  sat  was  to  look  upon  like  a 
jasper  and  a  sardine  stone." 

V.  Vert,  (viridis,)  from  the  same  root  as  the  words  'virtue,' 
and  'Virgin,' — the  colour  of  the  green  rod  in  budding  spring  ; 
the  noble  life  of  youth,  born  in  the  spirit, — as  the  scarlet 
means,  the  life  of  noble  youth,  in  Jlesh.*  It  is  seen  most 
perfectly  in  clear  air  after  the  sun  has  set, — the  blue  of  the 
upper  sky  brightening  down  into  it.  It  is  the  true  colour 
of  the  eyes  of  Athena, — Athena  TXavKuiinsj-f  looking  from  the 
wrest. 

*  Therefore,  the  Spirit  of  Beatrice  is  dressed  in  green,  over  scarlet, 
(not  rose  ; — observe  this  specially). 

"  Sovra  candido  vel,  cinta  d1  oliva 
Donna  m'  apparve  sotto  verde  manto, 
Vestita  di  color  di  flamma  viva." 

f  Accurately  described  by  Pausanias,  1,  xiv.,  as  of  the  colour  of  a 
green  lake,  from  the  Tritonian  pool ;  compare  again  the  eyes  of  Bea- 
trice. 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 


79 


The  stone  of  it  is  the  Emerald  ;  and  I  must  stay  for  a  mo- 
ment to  tell  you  the  derivation  of  that  word. 

Anciently,  it  did  not  mean  our  emerald,  but  a  massive 
green  marble,  veined  apparently  by  being  rent  asunder,  and 
called,  therefore,  the  Rent  or  Torn  Rock. 

Now,  in  the  central  war  of  Athena  with  the  Giants,  the  sign 
of  her  victory  was  that  the  earth  was  rent,  the  power  of  it 
torn,  and  graves  of  it  opened.  We  know  this  is  written  for 
the  sign  of  a  greater  victory  than  hers.  And  the  word  which 
Hesiod  uses — the  oldest  describer  of  this  battle — is  twice  over 
the  same :  the  sea  roared,  the  heavens  thundered,  the  earth 
cried  out  in  being  rent,  ior^apdyrjo-e.  From  that  word  you 
have  Fc  the  rent  rock," — in  Latin,  smaragdus  ;  in  Latin  dialect, 
smaraudus — softened  into  emeraudu,  emeraude,  emerald. 
And  now  you  see  why  "there  was  a  rainbow  round  about  the 
throne  in  sight  like  unto  an  emerald." 

VI.  Purpure.  The  true  purple  of  the  Tabernacle,  "blue, 
purple,  and  scarlet " — the  kingly  colour,  retained  afterwards 
in  all  manuscripts  of  the  Greek  Gospels ;  therefore  known 
to  us  absolutely  by  its  constant  use  in  illumination.  It  is  rose 
colour  darkened  or  saddened  with  blue  ;  the  colour  of  love  in 
noble  or  divine  sorrow ;  borne  by  the  kings,  whose  witness  is 
in  heaven,  and  their  labour  on  the  earth.  Its  stone  is  the 
Jacinth,  Hyacinth,  or  Amethyst, — "like  to  that  sable  flower 
inscribed  with  woe." 

In  these  six  colours,  then,  you  have  the  rainbow,  or  angelic 
iris,  of  the  light  and  covenant  of  life. 

But  the  law  of  the  covenant  is,  "  I  do  set  my  bow  in  the 
cloud,  on  the  shadow  of  death — and  the  ordinance  of  it." 

And  as  here,  central,  is  the  sun  in  his  strength,  so  in  the 
heraldry  of  our  faith,  the  morning  and  the  evening  are  the 
first  day, — and  the  last. 

VII.  Argent.  Silver,  or  snow-colour  ;  of  the  hoar-frost  on 
the  earth,  or  the  star  of  the  morning. 

I  was  long  hindered  from  understanding  the  entire  group 
of  heraldic  colours,  because  of  the  mistake  in  our  use  of  the 
word  'carbuncle/  It  is  not  the  garnet,  but  the  same  stone 
as  the  ruby  and  sapphire — only  crystallized  white,  instead  of 


80 


DEUCALIOK 


red  or  blue.  It  is  the  white  sapphire,  showing  the  hex 
agonal  star  of  its  crystallization  perfectly  ;  and  therefore  it 
becomes  an  heraldic  bearing  as  a  star. 

And  it  is  the  personal  bearing  of  that  Geoffrey  Plantagenet, 
who  married  Maud  the  Empress,  and  became  the  sire  of  the 
lords  of  England,  in  her  glorious  time. 

VIII.  Sable,  (sable,  sabulum,)  the  colour  of  sand  of  the  great 
hour-glass  of  the  world,  outshaken.  Its  stone  is  the  diamond 
— never  yet,  so  far  as  I  know,  found  but  in  the  sand.*  It  is 
the  symbol  at  once  of  dissolution,  and  of  endurance  :  dark- 
ness changing  into  light — the  adamant  of  the  grave. 

IX.  Gray.  (When  deep,  the  second  violet,  giving  Dante's 
fall  chord  of  the  seven  colours).  The  abatement  of  the  light, 
the  abatement  of  the  darkness.  Patience,  between  this  which 
recedes  and  that  which  advances  ;  the  colour  of  the  turtle- 
dove, with  the  message  that  the  waters  are  abated  ;  the  col-  \ 
our  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  poor, — therefore  of  humility.  Its 
stone  is  the  Pearl ;  in  Norman  heraldry  the  Marguerite — the 
lowest  on  the  shield,  yet  of  great  price  ;  and  because,  through 
this  virtue,  open  first  the  gates  of  Paradise,  you  are  told  that 
while  the  building  of  the  walls  of  it  was  of  jasper,  every  sev- 
eral gate  was  of  one  pearl. 

33.  You  hear  me  tell  you  thus  positively, — and  without 
qualification  or  hesitation, — what  these  things  mean.  But 
mind,  I  tell  you  so,  after  thirty  years'  work,  and  that  directed 
wholly  to  the  one  end  of  finding  out  the  truth,  whether  it  was 
pretty  or  ugly  to  look  in  face  of.  During  which  labour  I 
have  found  that  the  ultimate  truth,  the  central  truth,  is 
always  pretty ;  but  there  is  a  superficial  truth,  or  half-way 
truth,  which  may  be  very  ugly ;  and  which  the  earnest  and 
faithful  worker  has  to  face  and  fight,  and  pass  over  the  body 
of, — feeling  it  to  be  his  enemy ;  but  which  a  careless  seeker 
may  be  stopped  by,  and  a  misbelieving  seeker  will  be  de- 
lighted by,  and  stay  with  gladly. 

34.  When  I  first  gave  this  lecture,  you  will  find  the  only 
reports  of  it  in  the  papers,  with  which  any  pains  had  been 
taken,  were  endeavours  to  make  you  disbelieve  it,  or  misbe- 

*  Or  in  rock  virtually  composed  of  it. 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH 


81 


kieve  it, — that  is  to  say,  to  make  £  meseroyants '  or  '  miscreants1 
of  you. 

And  among  the  most  earnest  of  these,  was  a  really  indu& 
trious  essay  in  the  '  Daily  Telegraph,' — showing  evidence  that 
the  writer  had  perseveringly  gone  to  the  Heralds'  Office  and 
British  Museum  to  read  for  the  occasion  ;  and,  I  think,  de- 
serving of  serious  notice  because  we  really  owe  to  the  pro- 
prietors of  that  journal  (who  supplied  the  most  earnest  of  our 
recent  investigators  with  funds  for  his  Assyrian  excavations) 
the  most  important  heraldic  discoveries  of  the  generations  of 
Noah  and  Nimrod,  that  had  been  made  since  printing  took 
the  place  of  cuneiform  inscription. 

I  pay,  therefore,  so  much  respect  to  the  archseologians  of 
Fleet  Street  as  to  notice  the  results  of  their  suddenly  stimu- 
lated investigations  in  heraldry. 

35.  "  The  lecturer  appeared  to  have  forgotten,"  they  said, 
"thafc  every  nation  had  its  own  code  of  symbols,  and  that 
gules,  or  red,  is  denominated  by  the  French  heralds  gueules, 
and  is  derived  by  the  best  French  philologers  from  the  Latin 
'  gula,'  the  gullet  of  a  beast  of  prey." 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  the  best  French  philologists  do  give 
this  derivation  ;  but  it  is  also  unfortunately  true  that  the  best 
French  philologists  are  not  heralds ;  and  what  is  more,  and 
worse,  all  modern  heraldry  whatsoever  is,  to  the  old  science, 
just  what  the  poor  gipsy  Hayraddin,  in  6  Quentin  Durward,' 
is  to  Toison  d'Or.  But,  so  far  from  having  '  forgotten,'  as  the 
writer  for  the  press  supposes  I  had,  that  there  were  knights  of 
France,  and  Venice,  and  Florence,  as  well  as  England,  it  so 
happens  that  my  first  studies  in  heraldry  were  in  this  manu- 
script, which  is  the  lesson-book  of  heraldry  written  for  the 
young  Archduke  Charles  of  Austria ;  and  in  this  one,  which 
is  a  psalter  written  in  the  monastery  of  the  Saint  Chapelle  for 
St.  Louis,  King  of  France  ;  and  on  the  upper  page  of  which, 
here  framed,*  you  will  see  written,  in  letters  of  gold,  the  record 
of  the  death  of  his  mother,  Blanche  of  Castile,  on  the  27th  of 
November,  next  after  St.  Genevieve's  day ;  and  on  the  under 

*  The  books  referred  to,  in  my  rooms  at  Oxford,  are  always  accessible 
for  examination. 


S2 


DEUCALION. 


page,  between  the  last  lines  of  the  Athanasian  Creed,  het 
bearing,  the  Castilian  tower,  alternating  with  the  king's, — 
Azure,  seme  de  France. 

36.  With  this  and  other  such  surer  authority  than  was 
open  to  the  investigation  of  the  press-writer,  I  will  clear  up 
for  you  his  point  about  the  word  '  gules.'  But  I  must  go 
a  long  way  back  first.  I  do  not  know  if,  in  reading  the 
account  of  the  pitching  of  the  standards  of  the  princes  of 
Israel  round  the  Tabernacle,  you  have  ever  been  brought 
to  pause  by  the  singular  covering  given  to  the  Tabernacle 
itself, — rams'  skins,  dyed  red,  and  badgers'  skins.  Of  rams5 
skins,  of  course,  any  quantity  could  be  had  from  the  flocks, 
but  of  badgers',  the  supply  must  have  been  difficult ! 

And  you  will  find,  on  looking  into  the  matter,  that  the  so- 
called  badgers'  skins  were  indeed  those  which  young  ladies 
are  very  glad  to  dress  in  at  the  present  day, — sealskins  ;  and 
that  the  meaning  of  their  use  in  the  Tabernacle  was,  that  it 
might  be  adorned  with  the  useful  service  of  the  flocks  of  the 
earth  and  sea  :  the  multitude  of  the  seals  then  in  the  Medi- 
terranean being  indicated  to  you  both  by  the  name  and  coin- 
age of  the  city  Phocaea ;  and  by  the  attribution  of  them,  to 
the  God  Proteus,  in  the  first  book  of  the  Odyssey,  under  the 
precise  term  of  flocks,  to  be  counted  by  him  as  their  shepherd. 

37.  From  the  days  of  Moses  and  of  Homer  to  our  own,  the 
traffic  in  these  precious  wools  and  furs,  in  the  Cashmere  wool, 
and  the  fur,  after  the  seal  disappeared,  of  the  grey  ermine, 
(becoming  white  in  the  Siberian  winter,)  has  continued  :  and 
in  the  days  of  chivalry  became  of  immense  importance  ;  be- 
cause the  mantle,  and  the  collar  fastening  close  about  the 
neck,  were  at  once  the  most  useful  and  the  most  splendid 
piece  of  dress  of  the  warrior  nations,  who  rode  and  slept  in 
roughest  weather,  and  in  open  field.  Now,  these  rams'  skins, 
or  fleeces,  dyed  of  precious  red,  were  continually  called  by 
their  Eastern  merchants  6  the  red  things,'  from  the  Zoroas- 
trian  word  c  gul,' — taking  the  place  of  the  scarlet  Chlamydes, 
which  were  among  the  richest  wealth  of  old  Rome.  The 
Latin  knights  could  only  render  the  eastern  word  '  gul '  by 
gula  ;  and  so  in  St.  Bernard's  red-hot  denunciation  of  these 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 


83 


proud  red  dresses,  he  numbers  chiefly  among  them  the  little 
red-dyed  skins, — pelliculas  rubricatas, — which  they  call  guise: 
"  Quas  gulas  vocant."  These  red  furs,  for  wrist  and  neck, 
were  afterwards  supposed  by  bad  Latinists  to  be  called 
'  guise,'  as  ^/jrootf-pieces.  St.  Bernard  specifies  them,  also,  in 
that  office  :  "Even  some  of  the  clergy,"  he  says,  "have  the 
red  skins  of  weasels  hanging  from  their  necks— dependentes 
a  collo "  ;  this  vulgar  interpretation  of  gula  became  more 
commonly  accepted,  as  intercourse  with  the  East,  and  chival- 
ric  heraldry,  diminished  ;  and  the  modem  philologist  finally 
jumps  fairly  down  the  lion's  throat,  and  supposes  that  the 
Tyrian  purple,  which  had  been  the  pride  of  all  the  Emperors 
of  East  and  West,  was  named  from  a  wild  beast's  gullet ! 

38.  I  do  not  hold  for  a  mischance,  or  even  for  a  chance 
at  all,  that  this  particular  error  should  have  been  unearthed 
by  the  hasty  studies  of  the  Daily  Telegraph.  It  is  a  mistake 
entirely  characteristic  of  the  results  of  vulgar  modern  analy- 
sis ;  and  I  have  exposed  it  in  detail,  that  I  might  very  sol- 
emnly warn  you  of  the  impossibility  of  arriving  at  any  just 
conclusions  respecting  ancient  classical  languages,  of  which 
this  heraldry  is  among  the  noblest,  unless  we  take  pains  first 
to  render  ourselves  capable  of  the  ideas  which  such  languages 
convey.  It  is  perfectly  true  that  every  great  symbol,  as  it  has, 
on  one  side  a  meaning  of  comfort,  has  on  the  other  one  of 
terror  ;  and  if  to  noble  persons  it  speaks  of  noble  things,  to 
ignoble  persons  it  will  as  necessarily  speak  of  ignoble  ones. 
Not  under  one  only,  but  under  all,  of  these  heraldic  symbols, 
as  there  is,  for  thoughtful  and  noble  persons,  the  spiritual 
sense,  so  for  thoughtless  and  sensual  persons,  there  is  the 
sensual  one  ;  and  can  be  no  other.  Every  word  has  only  the 
meaning  which  its  hearer  can  receive  ;  you  cannot  express 
honour  to  the  shameless,  nor  love  to  the  unloving.  Nay, 
gradually  you  may  fall  to  the  level  of  having  words  no  more, 
either  for  honour  or  for  love  : 

"  There  are  whole  nations,"  says  Mr.  Farrar,  in  his  excellent 
little  book  on  the  families  of  speech,  "  people  whom  no  nation 
now  acknowledges  as  its  kinsmen,  whese  languages,  rich  in 
words  for  all  that  can  be  eaten  or  handled,  seem  absolutely 


84 


DEUCALION. 


incapable  of  expressing  the  reflex  conceptions  of  the  intellect, 
or  the  higher  forms  of  the  consciousness  ;  whose  life  seems 
confined  to  a  gratification  of  animal  wants,  with  no  hope  ill 
the  future,  and  no  pride  in  the  past.  They  are  for  the  most 
part  peoples  without  a  literature,  and  without  a  history ; — 
peoples  whose  tongues  in  some  instances  have  twenty  names 
for  murder,  but  no  name  for  love,  no  name  for  gratitude,  no 
name  for  God." 

39.  The  English  nation,  under  the  teaching  of  modern 
economists,  is  rapidly  becoming  one  of  this  kind,  which,  de- 
liberately livings  not  in  love  of  God  or  man,  but  in  defiance 
of  God,  and  hatred  of  man,  will  no  longer  have  in  its  heraldry, 
gules  as  the  colour  of  love  ;  but  gules  only  as  the  colour  of 
the  throat  of  a  wild  beast.  That  will  be  the  only  part  of  the 
British  lion  symbolized  by  the  British  flag  ; — not  the  lion 
heart  any  more,  but  only  the  lion  gullet. 

And  if  you  choose  to  interpret  your  heraldry  in  that  modern 
fashion,  there  are  volumes  of  instruction  open  for  you  every- 
where. Yellow  shall  be  to  you  the  colour  of  treachery,  in- 
stead of  sunshine  ;  green,  the  colour  of  putrefaction,  instead 
of  strength  ;  blue,  the  colour  of  sulphurous  hell-fire,  instead 
of  sun-lit  heaven  ;  and  scarlet,  the  colour  of  the  harlot  of 
Babylon,  instead  of  the  Virgin  of  God.  All  these  are  legiti- 
mate readings, — nay,  inevitable  readings.  I  said  wrongly  just 
now  that  you  might  choose  what  the  symbols  shall  be  to  you. 
Even  if  you  would,  you  cannot  choose.  They  can  only  reflect 
to  you  what  you  have  made  your  own  mind,  and  can  only 
herald  to  you  what  you  have  determined  for  your  own  fate. 

40.  And  now,  with  safe  understanding  of  the  meaning  of 
purple,  I  can  show  you  the  purple  and  dove-colour  of  St. 
Mark's,  once  itself  a  sea-borne  vase  of  alabaster  f ull  of  incense 
of  prayers ;  and  a  purple  manuscript, — floor,  walls  and  roof 
blazoned  with  the  scrolls  of  the  gospel. 

They  have  been  made  a  den  of  thieves,  and  these  stones  of 
Venice  here  in  my  hand  *  are  rags  of  the  sacred  robes  of  her 

*  Portions  of  the  alabaster  of  St.  Mark's  torn  away  for  recent  restora- 
tions. Tlie  destruction  of  the  floor  of  the  church,  to  give  work  to 
modem  mosaic  mongers,  has  been  going  on  foi  years.    I  cannot  bea* 


THE  IRIS  OF  THE  EARTH. 


85 


Church,  sold,  and  mocked  like  her  Master.  They  have  parted 
her  garments,  and  cast  lots  upon  her  vesture. 

41.  I  return  to  our  question  at  the  beginning  :  Are  we  right 
in  setting  our  hearts  on  these  stones, — loving  them,  holding 
them  precious? 

Yes,  assuredly;  provided  it  is  the  stone  we  love,  and  the 
stone  we  think  precious ;  and  not  ourselves  we  love,  and  our- 
selves we  think  precious.  To  worship  a  black  stone,  because 
it  fell  from  heaven,  may  not  be  wholly  wise,  but  it  is  half-way 
to  being  wise  ;  half-way  to  worship  of  heaven  itself.  Or,  to 
worship  a  white  stone  because  it  is  dug  with  difficulty  out  of 
the  earth,  and  to  put  it  into  a  log  of  wood,  and  say  the  wood 
sees  with  it,  may  not  be  wholly  wise  ;  but  it  is  half-way  to 
being  wise ;  half-way  to  believing  that  the  God  who  makes 
earth  so  bright,  may  also  brighten  the  eyes  of  the  blind.  It 
is  no  true  folly  to  think  that  stones  see,  but  it  is,  to  think  that 
eyes  do  not ;  it  is  no  true  folly  to  think  that  stones  live,  but 
it  is,  to  think  that  souls  die  ;  it  is  no  true  folly  to  believe  that, 
in  the  day  of  the  making  up  of  jewels,  the  palace  walls  shall 
be  compact  of  life  above  their  corner-stone, — but  it  is,  to  be- 
lieve that  in  the  day  of  dissolution  the  souls  of  the  globe  shall 
be  shattered  with  its  emerald  ;  and  no  spirit  survive,  unterri- 
fied,  above  the  ruin. 

42.  Yes,  pretty  ladies !  love  the  stones,  and  take  care  of 
them  ;  but  love  your  own  souls  better,  and  take  care  of  them, 
for  the  day  when  the  Master  shall  make  up  His  jewels.  See 
»;hat  it  be  first  the  precious  stones  of  the  breastplate  of  justice 
you  delight  in,  and  are  brave  in  ;  not  first  the  stones,  of  your 
own  diamond  necklaces  *  you  delight  in,  and  are  fearful  for, 

the  pain  of  describing  the  facts  of  it,  and  must  leave  the  part  of  the 
lecture  referring  to  the  colour  of  the  marbles  to  be  given  farther  on, 
in  connection  with  some  extracts  from  my  'Stones  of  Venice.'  The 
superb  drawing,  by  Mr.  Bunney,  of  the  north  portico,  which  illustrated 
them,  together  with  the  alabasters  themselves,  will  be  placed  in  the 
Sheffield  Museum. 

*  Do  yon  think  there  was  no  meaning  of  fate  in  that  omen  of  the 
diamond  necklace  ;  at  the  end  of  the  days  of  queenly  pride  ; — omen  of 
another  line,  of  scarlet,  on  many  a  fair  neck  ?    It  was  a  foul  story,  you 


86 


DEUCALION. 


lest  perchance  the  lady's  maid  miss  that  box  at  the  station. 
Get  your  breastplate  of  truth  first,  and  every  earthly  stone 
will  shine  in  it. 

Alas  !  most  of  you  know  no  more  what  justice  means,  than 
what  jewels  mean  ;  but  here  is  the  pure  practice  of  it  to  be 
begun,  if  you  will,  to-morrow. 

43.  For  literal  truth  of  your  jewels  themselves,  absolutely 
search  out  and  cast  away  all  manner  of  false,  or  dyed,  or  al- 
tered stones.  And  at  present,  to  make  quite  sure,  wear  your 
jewels  uncut  :  they  will  be  twenty  times  more  interesting  to 
you,  so.  The  ruby  in  the  British  crown  is  uncut ;  and  is,  as 
far  as  my  knowledge  extends, — I  have  not  had  it  to  look  at 
close, — the  loveliest  precious  stone  in  the  world.  And,  as  a 
piece  of  true  gentlewoman's  and  true  lady's  knowledge,  learn 
to  know  these  stones  when  you  see  them,  uncut.  So  much  of 
mineralogy  the  abundance  of  modern  science  may,  I  think, 
spare,  as  a  piece  of  required  education  for  the  upper  classes. 

44.  Then,  when  you  know  them,  and  their  shapes,  get  your 
highest  artists  to  design  the  setting  of  them.  Holbein,  Bot- 
ticelli, or  Angelico,  will  always  be  ready  to  design  a  brooch 
for  you.  Then  you  will  begin  to  think  how  to  get  your  Hol- 
bein and  Botticelli,  which  will  lead  to  many  other  wholesome 
thoughts. 

45.  And  lastly,  as  you  are  true  in  the  choosing,  be  just  in 
the  sharing,  of  your  jewels.  They  are  but  dross  and  dust 
after  all ;  and  you,  my  sweet  religious  friends,  who  are  so 
anxious  to  impart  to  the  poor  your  pearls  of  great  price,  may 
surely  also  share  with  them  your  pearls  of  little  price. 
Strangely  (to  my  own  mind  at  least),  you  are  not  so  zealous 
in  distributing  your  estimable  rubies,  as  you  are  in  communi- 
cating your  inestimable  wisdom.  Of  the  grace  of  God,  which 
you  can  give  away  in  the  quantity  you  think  others  are  in 

say— slander  of  the  innocent.  Yes,  undoubtedly,  fate  meant  it  to  be  so. 
Slander,  and  lying,  and  every  form  of  loathsome  shame,  cast  on  the 
innocently  fading  Royalty.  For  the  corruption  of  the  best  is  the  worst ; 
and  these  gems,  which  are  given  by  God  to  be  on  the  breast  of  the  pure 
priest,  and  in  the  crown  of  the  righteous  king,  sank  into  the  black  gravel 
of  diluvium,  under  streams  of  innocent  blood. 


THE  IMS  OF  THE  EARTH 


need  of,  without  losing  any  yourselves,  I  observe  you  to  be 
affectionately  lavish  ;  but  of  the  jewels  of  God,  if  any  sugges- 
tions be  made  by  charity  touching  the  distribution  of  them, 
you  are  apt,  in  your  wisdom,  to  make  answer  like  the  wise 
virgins,  "  Not  so,  lest  there  be  not  enough  for  us  and  you." 

46.  Now,  my  fair  friends,  doubtless,  if  the  Tabernacle  were 
to  be  erected  again,  in  the  middle  of  the  Park,  you  would  all 
be  eager  to  stitch  camels'  hair  for  it ; — some,  to  make  presents 
of  sealskins  to  it ;  and,  perhaps,  not  a  few  fetch  your  jewel- 
cases,  offering  their  contents  to  the  selection  of  Bezaleel  and 
Aholiab. 

But  that  cannot  be,  now,  with  so  Crystal-Palace-like  enter- 
tainment to  you.  The  tabernacle  of  God  is  now  with  men  ; — 
in  men,  and  women,  and  sucklings  also  ;  which  temple  ye  are, 
ye  and  your  Christian  sisters  ;  of  whom  the  poorest,  here  in 
London,  are  a  very  undecorated  shrine  indeed.  They  are  the 
Tabernacle,  fair  friends,  which  you  have  got  leave,  and  charge, 
to  adorn.  Not,  in  anywise,  those  charming  churches  and 
altars  which  you  wreathe  with  garlands  for  God's  sake,  and 
the  eloquent  clergyman's.  You  are  quite  wTong,  and  barba- 
rous in  language,  when  you  call  them  '  Churches '  at  all.  They 
are  only  Synagogues  ; — the  very  same  of  which  Christ  spoke, 
with  eternal  meaning,  as  the  places  that  hypocrites  would  love 
to  be  seen  in.  Here,  in  St.  Giles's  and  the  East,  sister  to  that 
in  St.  George's,  and  the  West,  is  the  Church!  raggedly 
enough  curtained,  surely  !  Let  those  arches  and  pillars  of 
Mr.  Scott's  alone,  young  ladies :  it  is  you  whom  God  likes  to 
see  well  decorated,  not  them.  Keep  your  roses  for  your  hair 
-—your  embroidery  for  your  petticoats.  You  are  yourselves 
the  Church,  dears  ;  and  see  that  you  be  finally  adorned,  as 
women  professing  godliness,  with  the  precious  stones  of  good 
works,  which  may  be  quite  briefly  defined,  for  the  present,  as 
decorating  the  entire  Tabernacle  ;  and  clothing  your  poor 
sisters,  with  yourselves.  Put  roses  also  in  their  hair,  put 
precious  stones  also  on  their  breasts  ;  see  that  they  also  are 
clothed  in  your  purple  and  scarlet,  with  other  delights  ;  that 
they  also  learn  to  read  the  gilded  heraldry  of  the  sky  ;  and, 
upon  the  earth,  be  taught,  not  only  the  labours  of  it,  but  the 


88 


DEUCALION. 


loveliness.  For  them,  also,  let  the  hereditary  jewel  recall  thehr 
father's  pride,  their  mother's  beauty  :  so  shall  your  days,  and 
theirs,  be  long  in  the  sweet  and  sacred  land  which  the  Lord 
your  God  has  given  you  :  so,  truly,  shall  the  gold  of  that 

LAND  BE  GOOD,  AND  THERE,  ALSO,  THE  CRYSTAL,  AND  THE  ONYX  STONE. 


CHAPTER  VHI. 

THE  ALPHABET. 

{Chapter  written  to  introduce  the  preceding  Lecture ;  but  trans 
posed,  that  the  Lecture  might  not  be  divided  between  iwo 
numbers.) 

1.  Since  the  last  sentence  of  the  preceding  number  of  'Deuca- 
lion 3  was  written,  I  have  been  compelled,  in  preparing  for  the 
arrangement  of  my  Sheffield  museum,  to  look  with  nicety  into 
the  present  relations  of  theory  to  knowledge  in  geological 
science  ;  and  find,  to  my  no  small  consternation,  that  the  as- 
sertions which  I  had  supposed  beyond  dispute,  made  by  the 
geologists  of  forty  years  back,  respecting  the  igneous  origin 
of  the  main  crystalline  masses  of  the  primary  rocks,  are  now 
all  brought  again  into  question  ;  and  that  the  investigations  of 
many  of  the  most  intelligent  observers  render  many  former 
theories,  in  their  generality,  more  than  doubtful.  My  own 
studies  of  rock  structure,  with  reference  to  landscape,  have 
led  me,  also,  to  see  the  necessity  of  retreating  to  and  securing 
the  very  bases  of  knowledge  in  this  infinitely  difficult  science  ; 
and  I  am  resolved,  therefore,  at  once  to  make  the  series  of 
'  Deucalion '  an  absolutely  trustworthy  foundation  for  the 
geological  teaching  in  St,  George's  schools  ;  by  first  sifting 
what  is  really  known  from  what  is  supposed  ;  and  then,  out 
of  things  known,  sifting  what  may  be  usefully  taught  to  young 
people,  from  the  perplexed  vanity  of  prematurely  systematic 
science. 

2.  I  propose,  also,  in  the  St.  George's  Museum  at  Sheffield 


THE  ALPHABET. 


89 


and  in  any  provincial  museums  hereafter  connected  with  it, 
to  allow  space  for  two  arrangements  of  inorganic  substances  ; 
one  for  mineralogists,  properly  so  called,  and  the  general  pub- 
lic ;  the  other  for  chemists,  and  advanced  students  in  physi- 
cal science.  The  mineralogical  collection  will  be  fully  de- 
scribed and  explained  in  its  catalogue,  so  that  very  young 
people  may  begin  their  study  of  it  without  difficulty,  and  so 
chosen  and  arranged  as  to  be  comprehensible  by  persons  who 
have  not  the  time  to  make  themselves  masters  of  the  science 
of  chemistry,  but  who  may  desire  some  accurate  acquaintance 
with  the  aspect  of  the  principal  minerals  which  compose  the 
world.  And  I  trust,  as  I  said  in  the  preceding  lecture,  that 
the  day  is  near  when  the  knowledge  of  the  native  forms  and 
aspects  of  precious  stones  will  be  made  a  necessary  part  of  a 
lady's  education  ;  and  knowledge  of  the  nature  of  the  soils, 
and  the  building  stones,  of  his  native  country,  a  necessary 
part  of  a  gentleman's. 

3.  The  arrangement  of  the  chemical  collection  I  shall  leave 
to  any  good  chemist  who  will  undertake  it ;  I  suppose  that 
now  adopted  by  Mr.  Maskelyne  for  the  mineral  collection  in 
the  British  Museum  may  be  considered  as  permanently  au- 
thoritative. 

But  the  mineralogical  collection  I  shall  arrange  myself,  as 
aforesaid,  in  the  manner  which  I  think  likely  to  be  clearest 
for  simple  persons  ;  omitting  many  of  the  rarer  elements 
altogether,  in  the  trust  that  they  will  be  sufficiently  illustrated 
by  the  chemical  series  ;  and  placing  the  substances  most  com- 
monly seen  in  the  earth  beneath  our  feet,  in  an  order  rather 
addressed  to  the  convenience  of  memory  than  to  the  symme- 
tries of  classification. 

4.  In  the  outset,  therefore,  I  shall  divide  our  entire  collec- 
tion into  twenty  groups,  illustrated  each  by  a  separately  bound 
portion  of  catalogue. 

These  twenty  groups  will  illustrate  the  native  states,  and 
ordinary  combinations,  of  nine  solid  oxides,  one  gaseous  ele- 
ment (fluorine),  and  ten  solid  elements,  placed  in  the  follow* 
ing  order : — 


90 


DEUCALION. 


1.  Silica. 

2.  Oxide  of  Titanium. 

3.  Oxide  of  Iron. 

4.  Alumina. 

5.  Potassa. 

6.  Soda. 

7.  Magnesia. 

8.  Calcium. 

9.  Glucina. 

10.  Fluorine. 

11.  Carbon. 

12.  Sulphur. 

13.  Phosphorus. 

14.  Tellurium. 

15.  Uranium. 

16.  Tin. 

17.  Lead. 

18.  Copper. 

19.  Silver. 

20.  Gold. 


5.  A  few  words  will  show  the  objects  proposed  by  this 
limited  arrangement.  The  three  first  oxides  are  placed  in  one 
group,  on  account  of  the  natural  fellowship  and  constant  as- 
sociation of  their  crystals. 

Added  to  these,  the  next  group  of  the  alkaline  earths  will 
constitute  one  easily  memorable  group  of  nine  oxides,  out  of 
which,  broadly  and  practically,  the  solid  globe  of  the  earth  is 
made,  containing  in  the  cracks,  rents,  or  volcanic  pits  of  it, 
the  remaining  eleven  substances,  variously  prepared  for  man's 
use,  torment,  or  temptation. 

6.  I  put  fluorine  by  itself,  on  account  of  its  notable  impor 
tance  in  natural  mineralogy,  and  especially  in  that  of  Cornwall, 
Derbyshire,  and  Cumberland  :  what  I  have  to  say  of  chlorine 
and  iodine  will  be  arranged  under  the  same  head  ;  then  the 
triple  group  of  anomalous  substances  created  for  ministry  by 
fire,  and  the  seven-fold  group  of  the  great  metals,  complete 
the  list  of  substances  which  must  be  generally  known  to  the 


THE  ALPHABET. 


91 


pupils  in  St.  George's  schools.  The  phosphates,  sulphates, 
and  carbonates  of  the  earths,  will  be  given  with  the  earths  ; 
and  those  of  the  metals,  under  the  metals.  The  carburets, 
sulphurets,  and  phosphurets,*  under  carbon,  sulphur,  and 
phosphorus.  Under  glucina,  given  representatively,  on  ac- 
count of  its  importance  in  the  emerald,  will  be  given  what 
specimens  may  be  desirable  of  the  minor  or  auxiliary  earths 
■ — baryta,  strontia,  etc.  ;  and  under  tellurium  and  uranium, 
the  auxiliary  metals — platinum,  columbium,  etc.,  naming  them 
thus  together,  under  those  themselves  named  from  Tellus  and 
Uranus.  With  uranium  I  shall  place  the  cupreous  micas,  for 
their  similarity  of  aspect. 

7.  The  minerals  referred  to  in  each  of  these  twenty  groups 
will  be  further  divided,  under  separate  letters,  into  such 
minor  classes  as  may  be  convenient,  not  exceeding  twenty : 
the  letters  being  initial,  if  possible,  of  the  name  of  the  class  ; 
but  the  letters  I  and  J  omitted,  that  they  may  not  be  confused 
with  numerals  ;  and  any  letter  of  important  sound  in  the  min  - 
eral's name  substituted  for  these,  or  for  any  other  that  would 
come  twice  over.  Then  any  number  of  specimens  may  be 
catalogued  under  each  letter. 

For  instance,  the  siliceous  minerals  which  are  the  subject 
of  study  in  the  following  lecture  will  be  lettered  thus  : — 

A.  Agate. 
C.  Carnelian. 
H.  Hyalite. 
L.  Chalcedony. 
M.  Amethyst. 
O.  Opal. 
Q.  Quartz. 
S.  Jasper. 

In  which  list,  M  is  used  that  we  may  not  have  A  repeated, 
and  will  yet  be  sufficiently  characteristic  of  Amethyst ;  and  L, 
to  avoid  the  repetition  of  C,  may  stand  for  Chalcedony  ;  while 

*  I  reject  the  modern  term  *  sulphide '  unhesitatingly.  It  is  as  bar 
barous  as  4  carbide. ' 


92 


DEUCALION. 


S,  being  important  in  the  sound  of  Jasper,  will  serve  instead 
of  excluded  J,  or  pre-engaged  A. 

The  complete  label,  then,  on  any  (principally)  siliceous 
mineral  will  be  in  such  form  as  these  following : — 

1  A  1,     meaning  Silica,  Agate,  No.  1. 

1  L  40,        "       Silica,  Chalcedony,  No.  40. 

1  Q  520,       "      Silica,  Quartz,  No.  520. 

8.  In  many  of  the  classes,  as  in  this  first  one  of  Silica,  we 
shall  not  need  all  our  twenty  letters  ;  but  there  will  be  a  let- 
ter A  to  every  class,  which  will  contain  the  examples  that 
explain  the  relation  and  connection  of  the  rest.  It  happens 
that  in  Silica,  the  agates  exactly  serve  this  purpose ;  and 
therefore  may  have  A  for  their  proper  initial  letter.  But  in 
the  case  of  other  minerals,  the  letter  A  will  not  be  the  initial 
of  the  mineral's  name,  but  the  indication  of  its  character,  as 
explanatory  of  the  succeeding  series. 

Thus  the  specimen  of  gold,  referred  to  as  20  A  1  in  the 
preceding  lecture,  is  the  first  of  the  series  exhibiting  the  gen- 
eral method  of  the  occurrence  of  native  gold  in  the  rocks 
containing  it ;  and  the  complete  series  in  the  catalogue  will 
be:— 

A.  Native  Gold,  in  various  geological 

formations. 

B.  Branched  Gold. 

C.  Crystalline  Gold. 

D.  Dispersed  Gold. 
G.  Granulate  Gold. 
K.  Knitted  Gold. 
L.  Leaf  Gold. 

M.  Mossy  Gold. 
B.  Boiled  Gold. 

• 

9.  It  may  be  at  once  stated  that  I  shall  always  retain  the 
word  '  branched  '  for  minerals  taking  either  of  the  forms  now 
called  ' arborescent '  or  '  dendritic'  The  advance  of  education 
must  soon  make  all  students  feel  the  absurdity  of  using  the 
epithet  '  tree-like '  in  Latin,  with  a  different  meaning  from 


Plate  IV. — Amethyst— Quartz. 
With  Warped  Faults  in  Concretion. 


THE  ALPHABET. 


93 


the  epithet c  tree-like  '  in  Greek.  My  general  word  £  branched' 
will  include  both  the  so-called  '  arborescent '  forms  (meaning 
those  branched  in  straight  crystals),  and  the  so-called  '  den- 
dritic ■  (branched  like  the  manganese  or  oxide  in  Mocha 
stones  ;)  but  with  most  accurate  explanation  of  the  difference  ; 
while  the  term  '  spun  *  will  be  reserved  for  the  variously 
thread-like  forms,  inaccurately  now  called  dendritic,  assumed 
characteristically  by  native  silver  and  copper. 

Of  course,  thread,  branch,  leaf,  and  grain,  are  all  in  most 
cases  crystalline,  no  less  definitely  than  larger  crystals  ;  but 
all  my  epithets  are  for  practical  service,  not  scientific  defini- 
tion ;  and  I  mean  by  '  crystalline  gold '  a  specimen  which  dis- 
tinctly shows  octohedric  or  other  specific  form  ;  and  by 
'  branched  gold '  a  specimen  in  which  such  crystalline  forms 
are  either  so  indistinct  or  so  minute  as  to  be  apparently 
united  into  groups  resembling  branches  of  trees. 

10.  Every  one  of  the  specimens  will  be  chosen  for  some 
specialty  of  character  ;  and  the  points  characteristic  of  it  de- 
scribed in  the  catalogue  ;  and  whatever  questions  respecting 
its  structure  are  yet  unsolved,  and  significant,  will  be  sub- 
mitted in  succession,  noted  each  by  a  Greek  letter,  so  that 
any  given  question  may  be  at  once  referred  to.  Thus,  for 
instance :  question  a  in  example  20  G  1  will  be  the  relation 
of  the  subdivided  or  granular  condition  of  crystalline  gold  to 
porous  states  of  the  quartz  matrix.  As  the  average  length  of 
description  required  by  any  single  specimen,  chosen  on  such 
principal,  ought  to  be  at  least  half  a  page  of  my  usual  type, 
the  distribution  of  the  catalogue  into  volumes  will  not  seem 
unnecessary  ;  especially  as  in  due  course  of  time,  I  hope  that 
each  volume  will  consist  of  two  parts,  the  first  containing 
questions  submitted,  and  the  second,  solutions  received. 

The  geological  series  will  be  distinguished  by  two  letters 
instead  of  one,  the  first  indicating  the  principal  locality  of  the 
formation,  or  at  least  that  whence  it  was  first  named.  And  I 
shall  distinguish  all  formations  by  their  localities — CCM,  L., 
Malham  limestone";  "S.  S.,  Skiddaw  slate";  etc.,— leaving 
the  geologists  to  assign  systematic  or  chronological  names  as 
they  like.    What  is  pliocene  to-day  may  be  pleistocene  to* 


94 


DEUCALION. 


morrow  ;  and  what  is  triassic  in  Mr.  A.'s  system,  tesserassic 
in  Mr.  B.'s  ;  but  Turin  gravels  and  Warwick  sands  remain 
where  they  used  to  be,  for  all  that. 

These  particulars  being  understood,  the  lecture  which  I 
gave  this  spring  on  the  general  relations  of  precious  minerals 
to  human  interests,  may  most  properly  introduce  us  to  our 
detailed  and  progressive  labour  ;  and  two  paragraphs  of  itP 
incidentally  touching  upon  methods  of  public  instruction, 
may  fitly  end  the  present  chapter. 

11.  In  all  museums  intended  for  popular  teaching,  there 
are  two  great  evils  to  be  avoided.  The  first  is,  superabun- 
dance ;  the  second,  disorder.  The  first  is  having  too  much  of 
everything.  You  will  find  in  your  own  work  that  the  less 
you  have  to  look  at,  the  better  you  attend.  You  can  no 
more  see  twenty  things  worth  seeing  in  an  hour,  than  }^ou 
can  read  twenty  books  worth  reading  in  a  day.  Give  little, 
but  that  little  good  and  beautiful,  and  explain  it  thoroughly. 
For  instance,  here  in  crystal,  you  may  have  literally  a  thou- 
sand specimens,  every  one  with  something  new  in  it  to  a 
mineralogist ;  but  what  is  the  use  of  that  to  a  man  who  has 
only  a  quarter  of  an  hour  to  spare  in  a  week  ?  Here  are  four 
pieces — showing  it  in  perfect  purity, — with  the  substances 
which  it  is  fondest  of  working  with,  woven  by  it  into  tissues 
as  fine  as  Penelope's  ;  and  one  crystal  of  it  stainless,  with  the 
favourite  shape  it  has  here  in  Europe — the  so-called  6  flute- 
beak  '  of  Dauphin 6, — let  a  man  once  understand  that  crystal, 
and  study  the  polish  of  this  plane  surface,  given  to  it  by  its 
own  pure  growth,  and  the  word  '  crystal'  will  become  a  mira- 
cle to  him,  and  a  treasure  in  his  heart  for  evermore. 

12.  Not  too  much,  is  the  first  law  ;  not  in  disorder,  is  the 
second.  Any  order  will  do,  if  it  is  fixed  and  intelligible  :  no 
system  is  of  use  that  is  disturbed  by  additions,  or  difficult  to 
follow  ;  above  all,  let  all  things,  for  popular  use,  be  beautifully 
exhibited.  In  our  own  houses,  we  may  have  our  drawers  and 
bookcases  as  rough  as  we  please  ;  but  to  teach  our  people 
rightly,  we  must  make  it  a  true  joy  to  them  to  see  the  pretty 
things  we  have  to  show  :  and  we  must  let  them  feel  that,  al- 
though^ poverty,  they  may  be  compelled  to  the  pain  of  labour, 


FIRE  AND  WATER. 


95 


they  need  not,  by  poverty,  be  debarred  from  the  felicity  and  the 
brightness  of  rest ;  nor  see  the  work  of  great  artists,  or  of  the 
great  powers  of  nature,  disgraced  by  commonness  and  vile- 
ness  in  the  manner  of  setting  them  forth.  Stateliness,  splen- 
dour, and  order  are  above  all  things  needful  in  places  dedi- 
cated to  the  highest  labours  of  thought :  what  we  willingly 
concede  to  the  Graces  of  Society,  we  must  reverently  offer  to 
the  Muses  of  Seclusion  ;  and  out  of  the  millions  spent  annu- 
ally to  give  attractiveness  to  folly,  may  spare  at  least  what  is 
necessary  to  give  honour  to  Instruction. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FIRE    AND  WATER. 

1.  In  examining  any  mineral,  I  wish  my  pupils  first  to  be 
able  to  ascertain  easily  what  it  is  ;  then  to  be  accurately  in- 
formed of  what  is  known  respecting  the  processes  of  its  forma- 
tion ;  lastly,  to  examine,  with  such  precision  as  their  time  or 
instruments  may  permit,  the  effects  of  such  formation  on 
the  substance.  Thus,  from  almost  any  piece  of  rock,  in 
Derbyshire,  over  which  spring  water  has  trickled  or  dashed 
for  any  length  of  time,  they  may  break  with  a  light  blow  a 
piece  of  brown  incrustation,  which,  with  little  experience,  they 
may  ascertain  to  be  carbonate  of  lime  ; — of  which  they  may 
authoritatively  be  told  that  it  was  formed  by  slow  deposition 
from  the  dripping  water  ; — and  in  which,  with  little  strain  of 
sight,  they  may  observe  structural  lines,  vertical  to  the  sur- 
face, which  present  many  analogies  with  those  which  may  be 
seen  in  coats  of  semi-crystalline  quartz,  or  reniform  chalcedony. 

2.  The  more  accurate  the  description  they  can  give  of  the 
aspect  of  the  stone,  and  the  more  authoritative  and  sifted  the 
account  they  can  render  of  the  circumstances  of  its  origin, 
the  greater  shall  I  consider  their  progress,  and  the  more 
hopeful  their  scientific  disposition. 

But  I  absolutely  forbid  their  proceeding  to  draw  any  logical 
inferences  from  what  they  know  of  stalagmite,  to  what  they 


96 


DEUCALION. 


don't  know  of  chalcedony.  They  are  not  to  indulge  either 
their  reason  or  their  imagination  in  the  feeblest  flight  beyond 
the  verge  of  actual  experience  ;  and  they  are  to  quench,  as 
demoniacal  temptation,  any  disposition  they  find  in  themselves 
to  suppose  that,  because  stalagmite  and  chalcedony  both  show 
lines  of  structure  vertical  to  reniform  surface,  both  have  been 
deposited  in  a  similar  manner  from  a  current  solution.  They 
are  to  address  themselves  to  the  investigation  of  the  chalce- 
dony precisely  as  if  no  stalagmite  were  in  existence, — to  inquire 
first  what  it  is  ;  secondly,  when  and  how  it  is  known  to  be 
formed  ;  and,  thirdly,  what  structure  is  discernible  in  it, — 
leaving  to  the  close  of  their  lives,  and  of  other  people's,  the 
collection,  from  evidence  thus  securely  accumulated,  of  such 
general  conclusions  as  may  then,  without  dispute,  and  without 
loss  of  time  through  prejudice  in  error,  manifest  themselves, 
not  as  'theories,'  but  as  demonstrable  laws. 

When,  however,  for  the  secure  instruction  of  my  thus  re- 
strained and  patient  pupils,  I  look,  myself,  for  what  is  actually 
told  me  by  eye-witnesses,  of  the  formation  of  mineral  bodies, 
I  find  the  sources  of  information  so  few,  the  facts  so  scanty, 
and  the  connecting  paste,  or  diluvial  detritus,  of  past  guesses, 
so  cumbrously  delaying  the  operation  of  rational  diamond- 
washing,  that  I  am  fain,  as  the  shortest  way,  to  set  such  of  my 
friends  as  are  minded  to  help  me,  to  begin  again  at  the  very 
beginning;  and  reassert,  for  the  general  good,  what  their, eyes 
can  now  see,  in  what  their  hands  can  now  handle. 

3.  And  as  we  have  begun  with  a  rolled  flint,  it  seems  by 
special  guidance  of  Fors  that  the  friend  who  has  already  first 
contributed  to  the  art-wealth  of  the  Sheffield  Museum,  Mr. 
Henry  Willett,  is  willing  also  to  be  the  first  contributor  to  its 
scientific  treasuries  of  fact ;  and  has  set  himself  zealously  to 
collect  for  us  the  phenomena  observable  in  the  chalk  and  flint 
of  his  neighbourhood. 

Of  which  kindly  industry,  the  following  trustworthy  notes 
have  been  already  the  result,  which,  (whether  the  like  observa- 
tions have  been  made  before  or  not  being  quite  immaterial  to 
the  matter  in  hand,)  are  assuredly  themselves  original  and  se- 
cure :  not  mere  traditional  gossip.    Before  giving  them,  how- 


FIRE  AND  WATER 


97 


ever,  I  will  briefly  mark  their  relations  to  the  entire  subject 
of  the  structure  of  siliceous  minerals. 

4.  There  are  a  certain  number  of  rocks  in  the  world,  which 
have  been  seen  by  human  eyes,  flowing,  white-hot,  and  watched 
by  human  eyes  as  they  cool  down.  The  structure  of  these 
rocks  is  therefore  absolutely  known  to  have  had  something  to 
do  with  fire. 

There  are  a  certain  number  of  other  rocks  in  the  world 
which  have  been  seen  by  human  eyes  in  a  state  of  wet  sand  or 
mud,  and  which  have  been  watched,  as  they  dried,  into  sub- 
stances more  or  less  resembling  stone.  The  structure  of  these 
rocks  is  therefore  known  to  have  had  something  to  do  with 
water. 

Between  these  two  materials,  whose  nature  is  avouched  by 
testimony,  there  occur  an  indefinite  number  of  rocks,  which 
no  human  eyes  have  ever  seen,  either  hot  or  muddy  •  but 
which  nevertheless  show  curious  analogies  to  the  ascertainably 
cooled  substances  on  the  one  side  and  to  the  ascertainably 
dried  substances  on  the  other.  Respecting  these  medial  for- 
mations, geologists  have  disputed  in  my  ears  during  the 
half- century  of  my  audient  life  ;  (and  had  been  disputing  for 
about  a  century  before  I  was  born,)  without  having  yet  arrived 
at  any  conclusion  whatever ;  the  book  now  held  to  be  the 
principal  authority  on  the  subject,  entirely  contradicting,  as 
aforesaid,  the  conclusions  which,  until  very  lately,  the  geo- 
logical world,  if  it  had  not  accepted  as  incontrovertible,  at 
least  asserted  as  positive. 

5.  In  the  said  book,  however, — Gustaf  Bischofs  Chemical 
Geology, — there  are,  at  last,  collected  a  large  number  of  im- 
portant and  secure  facts,  bearing  on  mineral  formation  :  and 
principles  of  microscopic  investigation  have  been  established 
by  Mr.  Sorby,  some  years  ago,  which  have,  I  doubt  not,  laid 
the  foundation,  at  last,  of  the  sound  knowledge  of  the  con- 
ditions under  which  crystals  are  formed.  Applying  Mr. 
Sorby's  method,  with  steady  industry,  to  the  rocks  of  Cum- 
berland, Mr.  Clifton  Ward  has,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  placed 
the  nature  of  these,  at  least,  within  the  range  of  secure  inves- 
tigation.   Mr.  Ward's  kindness  has  induced  him  also  to  spare 

7 


98 


DEUCALION, 


the  time  needful  for  the  test  of  the  primary  phenomena  of 
agatescent  structure  in  a  similar  manner  ;  and  I  am  engraving 
the  beautiful  drawings  he  sent  me,  with  extreme  care,  for  our 
next  number  ;  to  be  published  with  a  letter  from  him,  coi> 
taining,  I  suppose,  the  first  serviceable  description  of  agates- 
cent  structure  yet  extant.* 

6.  Hitherto,  however,  notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  ac- 
complished, nobody  can  tell  us  how  a  common  flint  is  made. 
Nobody  ever  made  one  ;  nobody  has  ever  seen  one  naturally 
coagulate,  or  naturally  dissolve  ;  nobody  has  ever  watched 
their  increase,  detected  their  diminution,  or  explained  the 
exact  share  which  organic  bodies  have  in  their  formation. 
The  splendid  labours  of  Mr.  Bowerbank  have  made  us  ac- 
quainted with  myriads  of  organic  bodies  which  have  provoked 
siliceous  concretion,  or  become  entangled  in  it :  but  the  beau- 
tiful forms  which  these  present  have  only  increased  the  dif- 
ficulty of  determining  the  real  crystalline  modes  of  siliceous 
structure,  unaffected  by  organic  bodies. 

7.  Crystalline  modes,  I  say,  as  distinguished  from  crystalline 
laws.  It  is  of  great  importance  to  mineralogy  that  we  should 
carefully  distinguish  between  the  laws  or  limits  which  deter- 
mine the  possible  angles  in  the  form  of  a  mineral,  and  the 
modes,  or  measures,  in  which,  according  to  its  peculiar  nature 
or  circumstances,  it  conducts  itself  under  these  restrictions. 

Thus  both  cuprite  and  fluor  are  under  laws  which  enforce 
cubic  or  octohedric  angles  in  their  crystals  ;  but  cuprite  can 
arrange  its  cubes  in  fibres  finer  than  those  of  the  softest  silk, 
while  fluor  spar  only  under  rare  conditions  distinctly  elongates 
its  approximate  cube  into  a  parallelopiped. 

Again,  the  prismatic  crystals  of  Wavellite  arrange  them- 
selves invariably  in  spherical  or  reniform  concretions  ;  but  the 
rhombohedral  crystals  of  quartz  and  hematite  do  so  only 
under  particular  conditions,  the  study  of  which  becomes  a 
quite  distinct  part  of  their  lithology. 

*  I  must,  however,  refer  the  reader  to  the  valuable  summary  of  work 
hitherto  done  on  this  subject  by  Professor  Rupert  Jones,  (Proceedings 
of  Geologist's  Association,  Vol.  IV.,  No.  7,)  for  examination  of  these 
questions  of  priority. 


FIRE  AND  WATER. 


99 


8.  This  stellar  or  radiant  arrangement  is  one  essential  con- 
dition in  the  forms  and  phenomena  of  agate  and  chalcedony ; 
and  Mr.  Clifton  "Ward  has  shown  in  the  paper  to  which  I  have 
just  referred,  that  it  is  exhibited  under  the  microscope,  as  a 
prevalent  condition  in  their  most  translucent  substance,  and 
on  the  minutest  scale. 

Now  all  siliceous  concretions,  distinguishing  themselves 
from  the  mass  of  the  surrounding  rocks,  are  to  be  arranged 
under  two  main  classes  ;  briefly  memorable  as  knots  and  nuts  ; 
the  latter,  from  their  commonly  oval  form,  have  been  usually 
described  by  mineralogists  as,  more  specially,  'almonds.' 

'  Knots '  are  concretions  of  silica  round  some  central  point 
or  involved  substance,  (often  organic) ;  such  knots  being  usu- 
ally harder  and  more  solid  in  the  centre  than  at  the  outside, 
and  having  their  fibres  of  crystallization,  if  visible,  shot  out- 
wards like  the  rays  of  a  star,  forming  pyramidal  crystals  on 
the  exterior  of  the  knot. 

9.  'Almonds 9  are  concretions  of  silica  formed  in  cavities  of 
rocks,  or,  in  some  cases,  probably  by  their  own  energy  pro- 
ducing the  cavities  they  enclose  ;  the  fibres  of  crystallization, 
if  visible,  being  directed  from  the  outside  of  the  almond-shell 
towards  its  interior  cavity. 

10.  These  two  precisely  opposite  conditions  are  severally 
represented  best  by  a  knot  of  sound  black  flint  in  chalk,  and 
by  a  well-formed  hollow  agate  in  a  volcanic  rock. 

I  have  placed  in  the  Sheffield  Museum  a  block  of  black  flint, 
formed  round  a  bit  of  Inoceramus  shell ;  and  an  almond-shell 
of  agate,  about  six  times  as  big  as  a  cocoa  nut,  which  will 
satisfactorily  illustrate  these  two  states.  Bat  between  the 
two,  there  are  two  others  of  distinctly  gelatinous  silica,  and 
distinctly  crystalline  silica,  filling  pores,  cavities,  and  veins,  in 
rocks,  by  infiltration  or  secretion.  And  each  of  these  states 
will  be  found  passing  through  infinite  gradations  into  some 
one  of  the  three  others,  so  that  separate  account  has  to  be 
given  of  every  step  in  the  transitions  before  we  can  rightly 
understand  the  main  types. 

11.  But  at  the  base  of  the  whole  subject  lies,  first,  the 
clear  understanding  of  the  way  a  knot  of  solid  crystalline 


100 


LEU  C ALIO  JS\ 


substance — say,  a  doclecahedral  garnet — forms  itself  out  of 
a  rock-paste,  say  greenstone  trap,  without  admitting  a  hairs- 
breadth  of  interstice  between  the  formed  knot  and  enclosing 
paste  ;  and,  secondly,  clear  separation  in  our  thoughts,  of  the 
bands  or  layers  which  are  produced  by  crystalline  segregation, 
from  those  produced  by  successively  accumulating  substance. 
But  the  method  of  increase  of  crystals  themselves,  in  an  ap- 
parently undisturbed  solution,  has  never  yet  been  accurately 
described  ;  how  much  less  the  phenomena  resulting  from 
influx  of  various  elements,  and  changes  of  temperature  and 
pressure.  The  frontispiece  to  the  third  number  of  i  Deu- 
calion '  gives  typical  examples  of  banded  structure  resulting 
from  pure  crystalline  action  ;  and  the  three  specimens,  1.  A. 
21,  22,  and  23,  at  Sheffield,  furnish  parallel  examples  of  ex- 
treme interest.  But  a  particular  form  of  banding  in  flint, 
first  noticed  and  described  by  Mr.  S.  P.  Woodward,*  is  of 
more  interest  than  any  other  in  the  total  obscurity  of  its 
origin  ;  and  in  the  extreme  decision  of  the  lines  by  which,  in 
a  plurality  of  specimens,  the  banded  spaces  are  separated 
from  the  homogeneous  ones,  indicating  the  first  approach  to 
the  conditions  which  produce,  in  more  perfect  materials,  the 
forms  of,  so-called  '  brecciated  '  agates.  Together  with  these, 
a  certain  number  of  flints  are  to  be  examined  which  present 
every  appearance  of  having  been  violently  fractured  and  re- 
cemented.  "Whether  fractured  by  mechanical  violence,  by 
the  expansive  or  decomponent  forces  of  contained  minerals, 
or  by  such  slow  contraction  and  re-gelation  as  must  have 
taken  place  in  most  veins  through  masses  of  rock,  wre  have  to 
ascertain  by  the  continuance  of  such  work  as  my  friend  has 
here  begun. 

Letter  I.f — Introductory. 

12.  "  I  am  beginning  to  be  perplexed  about  the  number  of 
flints,  containing  problems  and  illustrations,  and  wondering 
to  what  extent  my  inquiries  will  be  of  any  use  to  you. 

*  '  Geological  Magazine,'  1864,  vol.  i.,  p.  145,  pi.  vii.  and  viii. 
|  I  shall  put  my  own  notes  on  these  and  any  future  communications 
I  may  insert,  in  small  print  at  the  bottom  of  the  pages ;  and  with  letter- 


FIRE  AND    WA  TEH. 


101 


"  I  intended  at  first  to  collect  only  what  was  really  beauti- 
ful in  itself — '  crystalline  '!  but  how  the  subject  widens,  and 
how  the  arbitrary  divisions  do  run  into  one  another  !  What  a 
paltry  shifting  thing  our  classification  is  !  One  is  sometimes 
tempted  to  give  it  all  up  in  disgust,  and  I  have  a  shrewd  sus- 
picion that  all  scientific  classification  (except  for  mutual  aid 
to  students)  is  absurd  and  pedantic :  (a)  varieties,  species, 
genera,  classes,  orders,  have  most  of  them  more  in  common 
than  of  divergence, — '  a  forming  spirit '  everywhere,  for  use 
and  beauty. 

"It  is  (to  me)  impossible  to  separate  purely  mineral  and 
chemical  siliceous  bodies  in  chalk,  (b)  from  those  which  are 
partly  formed  by  the  silicate-collecting  sponges,  which  seem 
to  have  given  them  their  forms. 

"Who  is  to  say  that  the  radiations  and  accretions  of  a 
crystal  are  not  life,  but  that  the  same  arrangements  in  a  leaf 
or  a  tree  are  life  ? — that  the  clouds  which  float  in  their 
balanced  changeableness  are  not  as  much  guided  and  defined 
as  the  clouds  of  the  chalcedony,  or  the  lenses  of  the  human 
eye  which  perceives  them  ? 

"  I  think  the  following  facts  are  plain  : 

"  1.  The  chalk  bands  do  go  through  the  flint. 

"  2.  Fissures  in  flints  are  constantly  repaired  by  fresh 
deposits  of  chalcedony  and  silex. 

"  3.  Original  sponge  matter  is  preserved  (c)  and  obliterated 
by  siliceous  deposit,  in  extent  and  degree  varying  infinitely, 
and  apparently  proportioned  to  the  amount  of  iron  present — 
i.e.,  the  iron  preserves  original  form,  unless  when  combined 
with  sulphur  enough  to  crystallize,  when  all  the  original 
structure  disappears. 

references — a,  b,  etc.  ;  but  the  notes  of  the  authors  themselves  will  be 
put  at  the  end  of  their  papers,  in  large  print,  and  with  number-ref- 
erences—1,  2,  etc. 

{a)  All,  at  least,  is  imperfect ;  and  most  of  it  absurd  in  the  attempt 
to  be  otherwise. 

(b)  It  may  be  doubtful  if  any  such  exist  in  chalk  ;  but,  if  they  exist, 
they  will  eventually  be  distinguishable. 

(c)  Q.  The  form  or  body  of  it  only  ;  is  the  matter  itself  ever  pre- 
served ? 


102 


DEUCALION. 


"4.  Amygdaloids  seem  to  be  formed  by  a  kind  of  inde* 
pendent  or  diverse  arrangement  of  molecules,  caused  hj 
slight  admixture  of  foreign  minerals." 

Letter  II. — Memoranda  made  at  MantelVs  Quarry,  Cuckfield, 
on  the  banding  noticed  in  the  beds  and  nodules  of  the  sili- 
ceous calciferous  sandstone  there,  Slst  May,  1876. 

Nos.  L  and  II.  Ovate,  concentric,  ferruginous  bandings ; 
the  centre  apparently  (1)  free  from  banding. 

III.  Bands  arranged  at  acute  angles.  These  bands  are  not 
caused  by  fracture,  but  apparently  by  the  intersection,  at  an 
acute  angle,  of  the  original  lines  of  deposit,  (d) 

IV.  In  this  specimen  the  newly  fractured  surfaces  show  no 
bandings,  but  the  weathered  surface  develops  the  banding. 

V.  Ditto — i.e.  bands  parallel ;  much  more  ferruginous  and 
consequently  more  friable  when  exposed  to  weathering. 

May  not  something  be  learnt  regarding  the  laws  of  banding 
in  agates,  flints,  etc.,  from  observing  the  arrangement  of 
banding  in  rocks  composed  mainly  of  siliceous  matter  ?  (e) 

May  not  some  of  the  subtler  influences  which  regulate  the 
growth  of  trees  in  their  lines  of  annual  increase  (magnetic 
probably)  have  some  effect  in  the  arrangement  of  minerals  in 
solution  ? — nay,  even  of  the  higher  vital  processes,  such  as  the 
deposition  of  osseous  matter  in  teeth  and  bones  ?  (/) 

Letter  III. — Memoranda  respecting  banded  chalk. 

I.  In  the  banded  lines  (ferruginous)  noticed  above  and  be- 
low the  horizontal  fissures  beneath  the  cliff  at  the  Hope  Gap, 
Seaford,  it  is  evident  that  these  lines  are  not  markings  of 

Note  1,  page  121. 

(d)  These  angular  concretions  require  the  closest  study  ;  see  the  seg- 
ments of  spheres  in  the  plate  given  in  the  last  number. 

{e)  More,  I  should  say,  from  the  agates,  respecting  the  laws  of  band- 
ing in  rocks  :  see  the  plate  to  the  present  number.  When  we  can  ex- 
plain the  interruptions  of  the  bands  on  such  scale  as  this,  we  may  begin 
to  understand  some  of  those  in  larger  strata. 

if)  Yes,  certainly  ;  but  in  such  case,  the  teeth  and  bones  act  by 
mineral  law  ;  not  the  minerals  by  teeth  and  bone  law. 


FIRE  AND  WATER. 


103 


original  deposition,  but  are  caused  by  successive  infiltrations 
of  water  containing  iron  in  solution,  (g) 

II.  Concentric  markings  of  the  same  nature  are  observable 
in  places  where — 

a.  Iron  pyrites  are  decomposing,  and  the  iron  in  solution  is 
being  successively  infiltrated  into  the  surrounding  chalk  rock. 

b.  From  dropping  of  ferruginous  springs  through  crevices 
on  horizontal  surfaces. 

c.  This  is  observable  also  on  surfaces  of  tabular  flint. 

III.  Very  peculiar  contorted  bandings,  (similar  to  the  so- 
called  contorted-rocks,)  are  observable  in  certain  places, 
notably  in  the  face  of  the  chalk-pit  on  the  east  side  of  Gold- 
stone  Bottom.    This  chalk-pit,  or  quarry,  is  remarkable — 

1.  For  the  contorted  bandings  in  the  chalk  rock  which  are  not 
markings  of  original  deposition,  being  quite  independent  of 
original  stratification,  (h) 

2.  For  the  excessive  shattering  and  Assuring  observable. 

3.  For  the  fact  that  these  cracks  and  fissures  have  been  re- 
filled with  distinctive  and  varying  substances,  as  with  flint, 
clay,  Websterite,  and  intermediate  admixtures  of  these  sub- 
stances. 

4.  For  veins  of  flint,  formerly  horizontal,  which  show  visi- 
ble signs  of  disjDlacenient  by  subsidence. 

5.  For  the  numerous  fissures  in  these  veins  of  tabular  flint 
being  stained  by  iron,  which  apparently  aids  in  the  further 
process  of  splitting  up  and  of  widening  the  minute  crevices 
in  the  flint.  The  iron  also  appears  to  be  infiltrated  at  varying 
depths  into  the  body  of  unfractured  flint. 

Qy.  Has  not  ordinary  flint  the  power  or  property  of  absorb- 
ing ferruginous  fluid  ? 

(g)  Questionable.  Bands  are  almost  always  caused  by  concretion,  or 
separation,  not  infiltration.  However  caused,  tlie  essential  point,  in 
the  assertion  of  which  this  paper  has  so  great  value,  is  their  distinction 
from  strata. 

(h)  A  most  important  point.  It  is  a  question  with  me  whether  the 
greater  number  of  minor  contortions  in  Alpine  limestones  may  not  have 
been  produced  in  this  manner.  When  once  the  bands  are  arranged  by 
segregation,  chemical  agencies  will  soon  produce  mechanical  separation, 
as  of  original  beds. 


104 


DEUCALION. 


Letter  IV. — Memoranda  respecting  brecciate  flint. 

"June  7,  1876. 

"  I  hasten  to  report  the  result  of  my  fresh  inquiry  respect- 
ing the  specimen  I  first  sent  to  you  as  'breccia/  but  which 
you  doubted. 

"  The  site  is  the  embouchure  of  the  little  tidal  river  Cuck- 
mere,  about  two  miles  east  of  Seaford.  I  found  a  block  at 
about  the  same  spot  (about  three  hundred  yards  east  of  the 
coastguard  station,  and  about  three  quarters  of  the  distance 
west  of  the  river's  mouth). 

"The  rocks  are  here  covered  with  sand,  or  with  a  bed  of 
the  old  valley  alluvium,  not  yet  removed  by  wave  action. 
Travelling  westward,  the  transported  blocks  of  breccia 
gradually  increase  in  size,  (a  pretty  sure  augury  that  they 
were  derived  from  a  western  source).  The  whole  coast  is 
subject  to  a  very  rapid  degradation  and  consequent  encroach- 
ment of  the  sea,  the  average  in  some  places  being  from  twenty- 
five  to  thirty  feet  yearly.  At  a  spot  a  hundred  yards  east  of 
the  coastguard  station,  blocks  of  one  or  two  tons  were  visible. 
The  denuded  chalk  rock  is  of  chalk,  seamed  and  fissured  ;  the 
cliff  of  the  same  nature  ;  but  all  the  flints,  and  especially  the 
tabular  veins,  are  splintered  and  displaced  to  an  unusual 
extent. 

"  Farther  westward  yet,  the  blocks  of  breccia  weigh  several 
tons,  the  cement  being  itself  fissured,  and  in  some  places  con- 
sisting of  angular  fragments  stained  with  iron.  From  one 
mass  I  extracted  a  hollow  circular  flint  split  into  four  or  five 
pieces,  the  fragments,  although  displaced,  re-cemented  in 
juxtaposition,  (i) 

"  At  the  Hope  Gap,  the  whole  cliff  becomes  a  fractured 
mass,  the  fissures  being  refilled,  sometimes  with  calcareous 
cement,  sometimes  with  clay,  and  in  other  places  being 
hollow. 

"  From  the  sides  of  an  oblique  fissure  filled  with  clay  I 
extracted  two  pieces  of  a  nodular  flint,  separated  from  each 

(i)  I  am  not  prepared  to  admit,  yet,  that  any  of  these  phenomena  are 
owing  to  violence.    We  shall  see. 


FIRE  AND  WATER 


105 


other  by  a  two-inch  seam  of  clay  :  when  replaced  (the  clay 
having  been  removed)  the  two  fitted  exactly.  An  examin- 
ation of  the  rocks  shows  that  the  fissures,  which  run  in  all 
directions,  are  largest  when  nearly  horizontal,  dipping  slightly 
seawards. 

"  The  upper  and  lower  portions  of  some  of  these  horizontal 
fissures  are  banded  with  iron  stains,  evidently  derived  from 
iron-water  percolating  the  seams. 

"If  I  am  right,  therefore,  the  mystery  seems  to  be  ex- 
plained thus  :  (k) — 

"  L  Rain  water,  charged  with  carbonic  acid,  falling  on  the 
hills  behind,  trickles  past  the  grass  and  humus  beneath, 
through  the  cracks  in  the  chalk,  dissolving  the  carbonate  of 
lime  into  a  soluble  bi-carbonate.  Falling  downwards,  it 
escapes  seawrards  through  the  horizontal  fissures,  widening 
them  by  its  solvent  power. 

"  II.  The  weight  of  the  superincumbent  mass  by  slow,  cer- 
tain, irregular  pressure,  descends,  maintaining  the  contact  of 
surfaces,  but  still  ever  sinking  at  intervals,  varied  by  the  re- 
sisting forces  of  weight  and  pressure. 

"III.  This  process  is  probably  accelerated  by  the  inflow 
and  reflow  of  salt  water  at  the  ebb  and  flow  of  tide  (into  the 
fissures). 

"IV.  At  certain  periods,  probably  in  the  summer,  (as 
soluble  bi-carbonate  of  lime  becomes  less  soluble  as  temper- 
ature increases,)  a  portion  becomes  redeposited  as  a  hard 
semi-crystalline  calcareous  cement. 

"  V.  This  cement  appears,  in  some  instances,  to  be  slightly 
siliceous,  and  may  have  a  tendency,  by  the  mutual  attraction 
of  siliceous  matter,  to  form  solid  layers  of  tabular  flint. 

"VI.  If  these  deductions  be  correct,  it  is  probable  that  the 
great  results  involved  in  the  sinking  of  limestone  hills,  and 
the  consequent  encroachment  of  the  sea,  may  be  traced  (step 

(W)  I  think  this  statement  of  Mr.  Willett  s  extremely  valuable  ;  and 
see  no  reason  to  doubt  its  truth,  as  an  explanation  of  the  subsidence  or 
chalk  and  limestone  in  certain  localities.  I  do  not  hitherto  receive  it 
as  any  explanation  of  fracture  in  Hints.  I  believe  Dover  Cliffs  might 
sink  to  Channel  bottom  without  splitting  a  flint,  unless  bedded. 


106 


DEUCALION. 


by  step)  to  the  springs  in  valleys  'which  run  among  the 
hills ; '  thence  to  the  rain  and  dewdrops  ;  higher  up  to  the 
mists  and  clouds  ;  and  so  onward,  by  solar  heat,  to  the  ocean, 
where  at  last  again  they  find  their  rest." 

Letter  V. — Final  Abstract. 

"June  13,  1876. 

"In  addition  to  the  heat  derived  from  summer  and  at- 
mospheric changes,  there  will  be  a  considerable  amount  of 
heat  evolved  from  the  friction  produced  between  the  sides  of 
fissures  when  slipping  and  subsidence  occur,  and  from  the 
crushing  down  of  flint  supports  when  weight  overcomes  re- 
sistance. 

"  After  heavy  rainfall — 

1.  Fissures  are  filled. 

2.  Solution  is  rapid. 

3.  Hydraulic  pressure  increases. 

4.  Fissures  are  widened. 

"  After  a  period  of  dry  weather — 

1.  Solution  is  diminished. 

2.  Hydraulic  pressure  relieved. 

3.  Subsidence  and  flint-crushing  commence,  or  progress 

more  rapidly. 

4.  Heat  is  evolved. 

5.  Carbonic  acid  discharged. 

6.  Semi-crystalline  carbonate  of  lime  is  deposited  around. 

a.  Fragments  of  crushed  flint,  (at  rest  at  intermitting 

intervals  between  motion  of  rocks). 

b.  Angular  fragments  of  original  chalk  rock. 

c.  Angular  fractured  pieces  of  old  cement. 

"I  have  a  dawning  suspicion  that  siliceous  deposits  (as 
chalcedony,  etc.)  are  made  when  the  temperature  falls,  for 
reasons  which  I  must  postpone  to  a  future  paper." 


THIRTY  YEARS  SINCE. 


107 


(1)  Probably  the  same  arrangement  exists  (concentric), 
but  has  not  been  made  visible  because  the  iron  has  not  been 
oxydized. 

CHAPTER  X. 
'thirty  years  since.' 

Village  of  Simplon,  2d  September,  1876. 

1.  I  am  writing  in  the  little  one-windowed  room  opening 
from  the  salle-a-manger  of  the  Hotel  de  la  Poste  ;  but  under 
some  little  disadvantage,  being  disturbed  partly  by  the  invo- 
cation, as  it  might  be  fancied,  of  calamity  on  the  heads  of 
nations,  by  the  howling  of  a  frantic  wind  from  the  Col ;  and 
partly  by  the  merry  clattering  of  the  knives  and  forks  of  a 
hungry  party  in  the  salon  doing  their  best  to  breakfast  ade- 
quately, while  the  diligence  changes  horses. 

In  that  same  room, — a  little  earlier  in  the  year, — two-and- 
thirty  years  ago,  my  father  and  mother  and  I  were  sitting  at 
one  end  of  the  long  table  in  the  evening  :  and  at  the  other 
end  of  it,  a  quiet,  somewhat  severe-looking,  and  pale,  English 
(as  we  supposed)  traveller,  with  his  wife ;  she,  and  my 
mother,  working  ;  her  husband  carefully  completing  some 
mountain  outlines  in  his  sketch-book. 

2.  Those  days  are  become  very  dim  to  me  ;  and  I  forget 
which  of  the  group  spoke  first.  My  father  and  mother  were 
always  as  shy  as  children ;  and  our  busy  fellow-traveller 
seemed  to  us  taciturn,  slightly  inaccessible,  and  even  Al- 
pestre,  and,  as  it  were,  hewn  out  of  mountain  flint,  in  his 
serene  labour. 

Whether  some  harmony  of  Scottish  accent  struck  my 
father's  ear,  or  the  pride  he  took  in  his  son's  accomplishments 
prevailed  over  his  own  shyness,  I  think  we  first  ventured 
word  across  the  table,  with  view  of  informing  the  grave 
draughtsman  that  we  also  could  draw.  Whereupon  my  own 
sketch-book  was  brought  out,  the  pale  traveller  politely  per- 
missive.   My  good  father  and  mother  had  stopped  at  the 


.108 


DEUCALION. 


Simplon  for  me,  (and  now,  feeling  miserable  myself  in  the 
thin  air,  I  know  what  it  cost  them,)  because  I  wanted  to  climb 
the  high  point  immediately  wTest  of  the  Col,  thinking  thence 
to  get  a  perspective  of  the  chain  joining  the  Fletschhorn  to 
the  Monte  Bosa.  I  had  been  drawing  there  the  best  part  of 
the  afternoon,  and  had  brought  down  with  me  careful  studies 
of  the  Fletschhorn  itself,  and  of  a  great  pyramid  far  eastward, 
whose  name  I  did  not  know,  but,  from  its  bearing,  supposed 
it  must  be  the  Matterhorn,  which  I  had  then  never  seen. 

3.  I  have  since  lost  both  these  drawings  ;  and  if  they  were 
given  away,  in  the  old  times  when  I  despised  the  best  I  did, 
because  it  was  not  like  Turner,  and  any  friend  has  preserved 
them,  I  wish  they  might  be  returned  to  me  ;  for  they  would 
be  of  value  in  Deucalion,  and  of  greater  value  to  myself  ;  as 
having  won  for  me,  that  evening,  the  sympathy  and  help  of 
James  Forbes.  For  his  eye  grew  keen,  and  his  face  attentive, 
as  he  examined  the  drawings  ;  and  he  turned  instantly  to  me 
as  to  a  recognized  fellow- workman, — though  yet  young,  no 
less  faithful  than  himself. 

He  heard  kindly  what  I  had  to  ask  about  the  chain  I  had 
been  drawing  ;  only  saying,  with  a  slightly  proud  smile,  of  my 
peak  supposed  to  be  the  Matterhorn,*  "  No, — and  when  once 
you  have  seen  the  Matterhorn,  you  will  never  take  anything 
else  for  it !  " 

He  told  me  as  much  as  I  wras  able  to  learn,  at  that  time,  of 
the  structures  of  the  chain,  and  some  pleasant  general  talk 
followed  ;  but  I  knew  nothing  of  glaciers  then,  and  he  had  his 
evening's  work  to  finish.    And  I  never  saw  him  again. 

I  wonder  if  he  sees  me  now,  or  guided  my  hand  as  I  cut  the 
leaves  of  M.  Violet-le-Duc's  '  Massif  du  Mont  Blanc '  this  morn- 
ing, till  I  came  to  page  58, — and  stopped  ! 

I  must  yet  go  back,  for  a  little  while,  to  those  dead  days. 

4.  Failing  of  Matterhorn  on  this  side  of  the  valley  of  the 
Ehone,  I  resolved  to  try  for  it  from  the  other  ;  and  begged 
my  father  to  wait  yet  a  day  for  me  at  Brieg. 

No  one,  then,  had  ever  heard  of  the  Bell  Alp  ;  and  few  Eng- 
lish knew  even  of  the  Aletsch  glacier.    I  laid  my  plans  from 
*  It  was  the  Weisshorn. 


THIRTY  YEARS  SINGE. 


109 


the  top  of  the  Simplon  Col ;  and  was  up  at  four,  next  day ;  in 
a  cloudless  morning,  climbing  the  little  rock  path  which  as- 
cends directly  to  the  left,  after  crossing  the  bridge  over  the 
Ehone,  at  Brieg  ;  path  which  is  quite  as  critical  a  little  bit  of 
walking  as  the  Ponts  of  the  Mer  de  Glace  ;  and  now,  encum- 
bered with  the  late  fallen  shatterings  of  a  flake  of  gneiss  of 
the  shape  of  an  artichoke  leaf,  and  the  size  of  the  stern  of  an 
old  ship  of  the  line,  which  has  rent  itself  away,  and  dashed 
down  like  a  piece  of  the  walls  of  Jericho,  leaving  exposed, 
underneath,  the  undulatory  surfaces  of  pure  rock,  which,  I  am 
under  a  very  strong  impression,  our  young  raw  geologists  take 
for  real  "  mutton ed  "  glacier  tracks.* 

I  took  this  path  because  I  wanted  first  to  climb  the  green 
wooded  mass  of  the  hill  rising  directly  over  the  valley,  so  as  to 
enfilade  the  entire  profiles  of  the  opposite  chain,  and  length 
of  the  valley  of  the  Rhone,  from  its  brow. 

By  midday  I  had  mastered  it,  and  got  up  half  as  high  again, 
on  the  barren  ridge  above  it,  commanding  a  little  tarn  ; 
whence,  in  one  panorama  are  seen  the  Simplon  and  Saas  Alps 
on  the  south,  with  the  Matterhorn  closing  the  avenue  of  the 
valley  of  St.  Nicolas  ;  and  the  Aletsch  Alps  on  the  north,  with 
all  the  lower  reach  of  the  Aletsch  glacier.  This  panorama  I 
drew  carefully;  and  slightly  coloured  afterwards,  in  such 
crude  way  as  I  was  then  able  ;  and  fortunately  not  having 
lost  this,  I  place  it  in  the  Sheffield  Museum,  for  a  perfectly 
trustworthy  witness  to  the  extent  of  snow  on  the  Breithorn, 
Fletschhorn,  and  Montague  de  Saas,  thirty  years  ago. 

My  drawing  finished,  I  ran  round  and  down  obliquely  to 
the  Bell  Alp,  and  so  returned  above  the  gorge  of  the  Aletsch 
torrent — making  some  notes  on  it  afterwards  used  in  c  Mod- 
ern Painters,'  many  and  many  such  a  day  of  foot  and  hand 
labour  having  been  needed  to  build  that  book,  in  which  my 
friends,  nevertheless,  I  perceive,  still  regard  nothing  but  what 
they  are  pleased  to  call  its  elegant  language,  and  are  entirely 
indifferent,  with  respect  to  that  and  all  other  books  they  read, 
whether  the  elegant  language  tells  them  truths  or  lies. 

*  I  saw  this  wisely  suggested  in  a  recent  number  of  the  '  Alpine 
Journal.' 


110 


DEUCALION. 


That  book  contains,  however,  (and  to-day  it  is  needful  that 
I  should  not  be  ashamed  in  this  confidence  of  boasting)  the 
first  faithful  drawings  ever  given  of  the  Alps,  not  only  in  Eng- 
land, but  in  Europe  ;  and  the  first  definitions  of  the  manner 
in  which  their  forms  have  been  developed  out  of  their  crys- 
talline rocks. 

6.  'Definitions'  only,  observe,  and  descriptions;  but  no 
*  explanations.'  I  knew,  even  at  that  time,  far  too  much  of 
the  Alps  to  theorize  on  them  ;  and  having  learned,  in  the  thirty 
years  since,  a  good  deal  more,  with  the  only  consequence  of 
finding  the  facts  more  inexplicable  to  me  than  ever,  laid  M. 
Violet-le-D  uc's  book  on  the  seat  of  the  carriage  the  day  be- 
fore yesterday,  among  other  stores  and  preparations  for  pass- 
ing the  Simplon,  contemplating  on  its  open  first  page  the 
splendid  dash  of  its  first  sentence  into  space, — "  La  croute 
terrestre,  refroidie  au  moment  du  plissement  qui  a  forme  le 
massif  du  Mont  Blanc," — with  something  of  the  same  amaze- 
ment, and  same  manner  of  the  praise,  which  our  French  allies 
are  reported  to  have  rendered  to  our  charge  at  Balaclava  : — 

u  (Test  magnifique  ; — mais  ce  n'est  pas" — la  geologie. 

7.  I  soon  had  leisure  enough  to  look  farther,  as  the  steam- 
ing horses  dragged  me  up  slowly  round  the  first  ledges  of 
pines,  under  a  drenching  rain  which  left  nothing  but  their 
nearest  branches  visible.  Usually,  their  nearest  branches,  and 
the  wreaths  of  white  clouds  braided  among  them,  would  have 
been  all  the  books  I  cared  to  read  ;  but  both  curiosity  and 
vanity  were  piqued  by  the  new  utterances,  prophetic,  appar- 
ently, in  claimed  authority,  on  the  matters  timidly  debated  by 
me  in  old  time. 

I  soon  saw  that  the  book  manifested,  in  spite  of  so  great 
false-confidence,  powers  of  observation  more  true  in  their  scope 
and  grasp  than  can  be  traced  in  any  writer  on  the  Alps  since 
De  Saussure.  But,  alas,  before  we  had  got  up  to  Berisal,  I  had 
found  also  more  fallacies  than  I  could  count,  in  the  author's 
first  statements  of  physical  law ;  and  seen,  too  surely,  that  the 
poor  Frenchman's  keen  natural  faculty,  and  quite  splendid 
zeal  and  industry,  had  all  been  wasted,  through  the  wretched 


THIRTY  YEARS  SINCE. 


Ill 


national  vanity  which  made  him  interested  in  Mont  Blanc 
only  'since  it  became  a  part  of  France/  and  had  thrown  him 
totally  into  the  clique  of  Agassiz  and  Desor,  with  results  in 
which  neither  the  clique,  nor  M.  Violet,  are  likely,  in  the  end, 
to  find  satisfaction. 

8.  Too  sorrowfully  weary  of  bearing  with  the  provincial  tem- 
per, and  insolent  errors,  of  this  architectural  restoration  of 
the  Gothic  globe,  I  threw  the  book  aside,  and  took  up  my 
Carey's  Dante,  which  is  always  on  the  carriage  seat,  or  in  my 
pocket — not  exactly  for  reading,  but  as  an  antidote  to  pesti- 
lent things  and  thoughts  in  general ;  and  store,  as  it  were,  of 
mental  quinine,— a  few  lines  being  usually  enough  to  recover 
me  out  of  any  shivering  marsh  fever  fit,  brought  on  among 
foulness  or  stupidity. 

It  opened  at  a  favourite  old  place,  in  the  twenty-first  canto 
of  the  Paradise,  (marked  with  an  M.  long  ago,  when  I  was 
reading  Dante  through  to  glean  his  mountain  descriptions): — - 

u  'Twixt  either  shore 
Of  Italy,  nor  distant  from  thy  land,"  etc.; 

and  I  read  on  into  the  twenty-third  canto,  down  to  St.  Bene- 
dict's 

ff.  There,  all  things  are,  as  they  have  ever  been; 
Our  ladder  reaches  even  to  that  clime, 
Whither  the  patriarch  Jacob  saw  it  stretch 
Its  topmost  round,  when  it  appeared  to  him 
With  angels  laden.    But  to  mount  it  now 
None  lifts  his  foot  from  earth  ;  and  hence  my  rule 
Is  left  a  profitless  stain  upon  the  leaves, 
The  walls,  for  abbey  reared,  turned  into  dens ; 
The  cowls,  to  sacks  choked  up  with  musty  meal. 

*  *  *  * 

His  convent,  Peter  founded  without  gold 
Or  silver ;  I,  with  prayers  and  fasting,  mine; 
And  Francis,  his,  in  meek  humility. 
And  if  thou  note  the  point  whence  each  proceeds, 
Then  look  what  it  hath  erred  to,  thou  shalt  find 
The  white  turned  murky. 

Jordan  was  turned  back, 
And  a  less  wonder  than  the  refluent  sea 
May,  at  God's  pleasure,  work  amendment  here." 


112 


DEUCALION. 


9.  I  stopped  at  this,  (holding  myself  a  brother  of  the  third 
order  of  St.  Francis,)  and  began  thinking  how  long  it  would 
take  for  any  turn  of  tide  by  St.  George's  work,  when  a  ray  of 
light  came  gleaming  in  at  the  carriage  window,  and  I  saw, 
where  the  road  turns  into  the  high  ravine  of  the  glacier  gal- 
leries, a  little  piece  of  the  Breithorn  snowfield  beyond. 

Somehow,  I  think,  as  fires  never  burn,  so  skies  never  clear, 
while  they  are  watched  ;  so  I  took  up  my  Dante  again,  though 
scarcely  caring  to  read  more ;  and  it  opened,  this  time,  not  at 
an  accustomed  place  at  all,  but  at  the  "  I  come  to  aid  thy  wish," 
of  St.  Bernard,  in  the  thirty-first  canto.  Not  an  accustomed 
place,  because  I  always  think  it  very  unkind  of  Beatrice  to 
leave  him  to  St.  Bernard  ;  and  seldom  turn  expressly  to  the 
passage  :  but  it  has  chanced  lately  to  become  of  more  signifi- 
cance to  me,  and  I  read  on  eagerly,  to  the  "  So  burned  the 
peaceful  oriflamme/'  when  the  increasing  light  became  so 
strong  that  it  awaked  me,  like  a  new  morning  ;  and  I  closed 
the  book  again,  and  looked  out. 

We  had  just  got  up  to  the  glacier  galleries,  and  the  last 
films  of  rain  were  melting  into  a  horizontal  bar  of  blue  sky 
which  had  opened  behind  the  Bernese  Alps. 

I  watched  it  for  a  minute  or  two  through  the  alternate  arch 
and  pier  of  the  glacier  galleries,  and  then  as  we  got  on  the 
open  hill  flank  again,  called  to  Bernardo  *  to  stop. 

10.  Of  all  views  of  the  great  mountains  that  I  knowr  in 
Switzerland,  I  think  this,  of  the  southern  side  of  the  Bernese 
range  from  the  Simplon,  in  general  the  most  disappointing — 
for  two  reasons  :  the  first,  that  the  green  mass  of  their  foun- 
dation slopes  so  softly  to  the  valley  that  it  takes  away  half  the 
look  of  their  height ;  and  the  second,  that  the  greater  peaks 
are  confused  among  the  crags  immediately  above  the  Aletsch 
glacier,  and  cannot,  in  quite  clear  weather,  be  recognized  as 
more  distant,  or  more  vast.  But  at  this  moment,  both  these 
disadvantages  were  totally  conquered.  The  whole  valley  was 
full  of  absolutely  impenetrable  wreathed  cloud,  nearly  all  pure 

*  Bernardo  Bergonza,  of  the  Hotel  d'ltalie,  Arona,  in  whom  any  friend 
of  mine  will  find  a  glad  charioteer  ;  and  they  cannot  anywhere  find  an 
abler  or  honester  one. 


THIRTY  TEARS  SINCE. 


113 


white,  only  the  palest  grey  rounding  the  changeful  domes  of 
it ;  and  beyond  these  domes  of  heavenly  marble,  the  great  Alps 
stood  up  against  the  blue, — not  wholly  clear,  but  clasped  and 
entwined  with  translucent  folds  of  mist,  traceable,  but  no  more 
traceable,  than  the  thinnest  veil  drawn  over  St.  Catherine's  or 
the  Virgin's  hair  by  Lippi  or  Luini ;  and  rising  as  they  were 
withdrawn  from  such  investiture,  into  faint  oriflammes,  as  if 
borne  by  an  angel  host  far  distant ;  the  peaks  themselves 
strewn  with  strange  light,  by  snow  fallen  but  that  moment, — 
the  glory  shed  upon  them  as  the  veil  fled  ; — and  intermittent 
waves  of  still  gaining  seas  of  light  increasing  upon  them,  as 
if  on  the  first  day  of  creation. 

"  A  present,  vous  pouvez  voir  l'hotel  sur  le  Bell  Alp,  bati 
par  Monsieur  Tyndall." 

The  voice  was  the  voice  of  the  driver  of  the  supplementary 
pair  of  horses  from  Brieg,  who,  just  dismissed  by  Bernardo, 
had  been  for  some  minutes  considering  how  he  could  best  rec- 
ommend himself  to  me  for  an  extra  franc. 

I  not  instantly  appearing  favourably  stirred  by  this  infor- 
mation, he  went  on  with  increased  emphasis,  "Monsieur  le 
professeur  Tyndall." 

The  poor  fellow  lost  his  bonnemain  by  it  altogether — not 
out  of  any  deliberate  spite  of  mine  ;  but  because,  at  this  sec- 
ond interruption,  I  looked  at  him,  with  an  expression  (as  I 
suppose)  so  little  calculated  to  encourage  his  hopes  of  my  gene- 
rosity that  he  gave  the  matter  up  in  a  moment,  and  turned 
away,  with  his  horses,  down  the  hill ; — I  partly  not  caring  to 
be  further  disturbed,  and  being  besides  too  slow — as  I  always 
am  in  cases  where  presence  of  mind  is  needful — in  calling  him 
back  again. 

11.  For,  indeed,  the  confusion  into  which  he  had  thrown 
my  thoughts  was  all  the  more  perfect  and  diabolic,  because  it 
consisted  mainly  in  the  stirring  up  of  every  particle  of  personal 
vanity  and  mean  spirit  of  contention  which  could  be  concen- 
trated in  one  blot  of  pure  black  ink,  to  be  dropped  into  the 
midst  of  my  aerial  vision. 

Finding  it  totally  impossible  to  look  at  the  Alps  any  more, 
for  the  moment,  I  got  out  of  the  carriage,  sent  it  on  to  th8 
8 


Ill 


DEUCALION. 


Simplon  village  ;  and  began  climbing,  to  recover  my  feelings 
and  wits,  among  the  mossy  knolls  above  the  convent. 

They  were  drenched  with  the  just  past  rain  ;  glittering  now 
in  perfect  sunshine,  and  themselves  enriched  by  autumn  into 
wreaths  of  responding  gold. 

The  vast  hospice  stood  desolate  in  the  hollow  behind  them; 
the  first  time  I  had  ever  passed  it  with  no  welcome  from  either 
monk,  or  dog.  Blank  as  the  fields  of  snow  above,  stood  now 
the  useless  walls ;  and  for  the  first  time,  unredeemed  by  asso- 
ciation ;  only  the  thin  iron  cross  in  the  centre  of  the  roof  re- 
maining to  say  that  this  had  once  been  a  house  of  Christian 
Hospitallers. 

12.  Desolate  this,  and  dead  the  office  of  this, — for  the  pres- 
ent, it  seems;  and  across  the  valley,  instead,  "1  hotel  sur  le 
Bell  Alp,  bati  par  Monsieur  Tyndall,"  no  nest  of  dreamy 
monks,  but  of  philosophically  peripatetic  or  perisaltatory 
'  puces  des  glaces.' 

For,  on  the  whole,  that  is  indeed  the  dramatic  aspect  and 
relation  of  them  to  the  glaciers  ;  little  jumping  black  things, 
who  appear,  under  the  photographic  microscope,  active  on  the 
ice- waves,  or  even  inside  of  them  ;  —  giving  to  most  of  the 
great  views  of  the  Alps,  in  the  windows  at  Geneva,  a  more  or 
less  animatedly  punctuate  and  pulicarious  character. 

Such  their  dramatic  and  picturesque  function,  to  any  one 
with  clear  eyes ;  their  intellectual  function,  however,  being 
more  important,  and  comparable  rather  to  a  symmetrical  suc- 
cession of  dirt-bands, — each  making  the  ice  more  invisible 
than  the  last ;  for  indeed,  here,  in  1876,  are  published,  with 
great  care  and  expense,  such  a  quantity  of  accumulated  rub- 
bish of  past  dejection,  and  moraine  of  finely  triturated  mis- 
take, clogging  together  gigantic  heaped  blocks  of  far- travelled 
blunder,  —  as  it  takes  away  one's  breath  to  approach  the 
shadow  of. 

13.  The  first  in  magnitude,  as  in  origin,  of  these  long-sus- 
tained stupidities, —  the  pierre-a-Bot,  or  Frog-stone,  par  ex- 
cellence, of  the  Neuchatel  clique, — is  Charpentier's  Dilatation 
Theory,  revived  by  M.  Violet,  not  now  as  a  theory,  but  an 
assured  principle  !  —  without,  however,  naming  Charpentier 


THIRTY  TEARS  SINCE. 


115 


as  the  author  of  it ;  and  of  course  without  having  read  a  word 
of  Forbes's  demolition  of  it.  The  essential  work  of  Deucalion 
is  construction,  not  demolition ;  but  when  an  avalanche  of  old 
rubbish  is  shot  in  our  way,  I  must,  whether  I  would  or  no, 
clear  it  aside  before  I  can  go  on.  I  suppose  myself  speaking 
to  my  Sheffield  men  ;  and  shall  put  so  much  as  they  need  know 
of  these  logs  upon  the  line,  as  briefly  as  possible,  before  them. 

14.  There  are  three  theories  extant,  concerning  glacier-mo- 
tion, among  the  gentlemen  who  live  at  the  intellectual  '  Hotel 
des  Neuchatelois.'  These  are  specifically  known  as  the  Slid- 
ing,— Dilatation, — and  Kegelation,  theories. 

When  snow  lies  deep  on  a  sloping  roof,  and  is  not  supported 
below  by  any  cornice  or  gutter,  you  know  that  when  it  thaws, 
and  the  sun  has  warmed  it  to  a  certain  extent,  the  whole  mass 
slides  off  into  the  street. 

That  is  the  way  the  scientific  persons  who  hold  the  '  Sliding 
theory/  suppose  glaciers  to  move.  They  assume,  therefore, 
two  things  more  ;  namely,  first  that  all  mountains  are  as 
smooth  as  house-roofs ;  and,  secondly,  that  a  piece  of  ice  a 
mile  long  and  three  or  four  hundred  feet  deep  will  slide 
gently,  though  a  piece  a  foot  deep  and  a  yard  long  slides  fast, 
— in  other  words,  that  a  paving-stone  will  slide  fast  on  another 
paving-stone,  but  the  Eossberg  fall  at  the  rate  of  eighteen 
inches  a  day. 

There  is  another  form  of  the  sliding  theory,  which  is  that 
glaciers  slide  in  little  bits,  one  at  a  time  ;  or,  for  example,  that 
if  you  put  a  railway  train  on  an  incline,  with  loose  fastening 
to  the  carriages,  the  first  carriage  will  slide  first,  as  far  as  it 
can  go,  and  then  stop ;  then  the  second  start,  and  catch  it  up, 
and  wait  for  the  third ;  and  so  on,  till  when  the  last  has  come 
up,  the  first  will  start  again. 

Having  once  for  all  sufficiently  explained  the  'Sliding 
theory '  to  you,  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  any  more  in  Deuca- 
lion about  it. 

15.  The  next  theory  is  the  Dilatation  theory.  The  scien- 
tific persons  who  hold  that  theory  suppose  that  whenever  a 
shower  of  rain  falls  on  a  glacier,  the  said  rain  freezes  inside 
of  it ;  and  that  the  glacier  being   thereby  made  bigger, 


116 


DEUCALION. 


stretches  itself  uniformly  in  one  direction,  and  never  in  any 
other  ;  also  that,  although  it  can  only  be  thus  expanded  in  cold 
and  wet  weather,  such  expansion  is  the  reason  that  it  always 
goes  fastest  In  hot  and  dry  weather. 

There  is  another  form  of  the  Dilatation  theory,  which  is 
that  the  glacier  expands  by  freezing  its  own  meltings. 

16.  Having  thus  sufficiently  explained  the  Dilatation  theory 
to  you,  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  in  Deucalion  farther  about 
it  ;  noticing  only,  in  bidding  it  goodbye,  the  curious  want  of 
power  in  scientific  men,  when  once  they  get  hold  of  a  false 
notion,  to  perceive  the  commonest  analogies  implying  its 
correction.  One  would  have  thought  that,  with  their  ther- 
mometer in  their  hand  to  measure  congelation  with,  and  the 
idea  of  expansion  in  their  head,  the  analogy  between  the  tube 
of  the  thermometer,  and  a  glacier  channel,  and  the  ball  of  the 
thermometer,  and  a  glacier  reservoir,  might,  some  sunshiny 
day,  have  climbed  across  the  muddily-fissured  glacier  of  their 
wits  : — and  all  the  quicker,  that  their  much-studied  Mer  de 
Glace  bears  to  the  great  reservoirs  of  ice  above  it  precisely 
the  relation  of  a  very  narrow  tube  to  a  very  large  bail.  The 
vast  c  instrument '  seems  actually  to  have  been  constructed  by 
Nature,  to  show  to  the  dullest  of  savants  the  difference  be- 
tween the  steady  current  of  flux  through  a  channel  of  drain- 
age, and  the  oscillatory  vivacity  of  expansion  which  they 
constructed  their  own  tubular  apparatus  to  obtain ! 

17.  The  last  popular  theory  concerning  glaciers  is  the 
Eegelation  theory.  The  scientific  persons  who  hold  that 
theory,  suppose  that  a  glacier  advances  by  breaking  itself 
spontaneously  into  small  pieces ;  and  then  spontaneously 
sticking  the  pieces  together  again ; — that  it  becomes  continu- 
ally larger  by  a  repetition  of  this  operation,  and  that  the 
enlargement  (as  assumed  also  by  the  gentlemen  of  the  dilata- 
tion party),  can  only  take  place  downwards. 

You  may  best  conceive  the  gist  of  the  Eegelation  theory  by 
considering  the  parallel  statement,  which  you  may  make  to 
your  scientific  young  people,  that  if  they  put  a  large  piece  of 
barley  sugar  on  the  staircase  landing,  it  will  walk  downstairs 
by  alternately  cracking  and  mending  itself. 


THIRTY  YEARS  SINCE. 


117 


I  shall  not  trouble  myself  farther,  in  Deucalion,  about  the 
Regelation  theory. 

18.  M.  Violet-le-Duc,  indeed,  appears  to  have  written  his 
book  without  even  having  heard  of  it ;  but  he  makes  most 
dextrous  use  of  the  two  others,  fighting,  as  it  were,  at  once 
with  sword  and  dagger  ;  and  making  his  glaciers  move  on  the 
Sliding  theory  when  the  ground  is  steep,  and  on  the  Dilatation 
theory  when  it  is  level.  The  woodcuts  at  pages  65,  66,  in 
which  a  glacier  is  represented  dilating  itself  up  a  number  of 
hills  and  down  again,  and  that  at  page  99,  in  which  it  defers 
a  line  of  boulders,  which  by  unexplained  supernatural  power 
have  been  deposited  all  across  it,  into  moraines  at  its  side, 
cannot  but  remain  triumphant  among  monuments  of  scientific 


B 

Fig.  5. 


error, — bestowing  on  their  author  a  kind  of  St.  Simeon- 
Stylitic  pre-eminence  of  immortality  in  the  Paradise  of  Fools. 

19.  Why  I  stopped  first  at  page  58  of  this  singular  volume, 
I  see  there  is  no  room  to  tell  in  this  number  of  Deucalion  ;  stili 
less  to  note  the  interesting  repetitions  by  M.  Violet-le-Duc  of 
the  Tyndall-Agassiz  demonstration  that  Forbes'  assertion  of 
the  plasticity  of  ice  in  large  pieces,  is  now  untenable,  by 
reason  of  the  more  recent  discovery  of  its  plasticity  in  little 
ones.  I  have  just  space,  however,  for  a  little  woodcut  from 
the  '  Glaciers  of  the  Alps/  (or  '  Forms  of  Water,'  I  forget 
which,  and  it  is  no  matter,)  in  final  illustration  of  the  Tyndalh 
Agassiz  quality  of  wit. 

20,  Fig.  5,  a,  is  Professor  Tyndall's  illustration  of  the  effect 


118 


DEUCALION. 


of  sunshine  on  a  piece  of  glacier,  originally  of  the  form  shown 
by  the  dotted  line,  and  reduced  by  solar  power  on  the  south 
side  to  the  beautifully  delineated  wave  in  the  shape  of  a 
wedge. 

It  never  occurred  to  the  scientific  author  that  the  sunshine 
would  melt  some  of  the  top,  as  well  as  of  the  side,  of  his 
parallelopiped ;  nor  that,  during  the  process,  even  on  the 
shady  side  of  it,  some  melting  would  take  place  in  the  sum- 
mer air.  The  figure  at  b  represents  three  stages  of  the  dimi- 
nution which  would  really  take  place,  allowing  for  these  other 
somewThat  important  conditions  of  the  question  ;  and  it  shows, 
what  may  farther  interest  the  ordinary  observer,  how  rectan- 
gular portions  of  ice,  originally  produced  merely  by  fissure  in 
its  horizontal  mass,  may  be  gradually  reduced  into  sharp,  axe- 
edged  ridges,  having  every  appearance  of  splintery  and  vitre- 
ous fracture.  In  next  Deucalion  I  hope  to  give  at  last  some 
account  of  my  experiments  on  gelatinous  fracture,  made  in  the 
delightful  laboratory  of  my  friend's  kitchen,  with  the  aid  of 
her  infinitely  conceding,  and  patiently  collaborating,  cook. 


CHAPTER  XX 

OF  SILICA  IN  LAVAS. 

1.  The  rocks  through  whose  vast  range,  as  stated  in  the 
ninth  chapter,  our  at  first  well-founded  knowledge  of  their 
igneous  origin  gradually  becomes  dim,  and  fades  into  theory, 
may  be  logically  divided  into  these  four  following  groups. 

I.  True  lavas.  Substances  which  have  been  rapidly  cooled 
from  fusion  into  homogeneous  masses,  showing  no  clear  traces 
of  crystallization. 

II.  Basalts.*  Rocks  in  which,  without  distinct  separation 
of  their  elements,  a  disposition  towards  crystalline  structure 
manifests  itself. 

*  I  use  this  word  as  on  the  whole  the  best  for  the  vast  class  of  rocks 
I  wish  to  include  ;  but  without  any  reference  to  columnar  desiccation 
I  consider,  in  this  arrangement,  only  internal  structure. 


OF  SILICA  IN  LAVAS. 


119 


III.  Porphyries.  Eocks  in  which  one  or  more  mineral  ele- 
ments separate  themselves  in  crystalline  form  from  a  homo- 
geneous paste. 

IV.  Granites.  Eocks  in  which  all  their  elements  have  taken 
crystalline  form. 

2.  These,  I  say,  are  logical  divisions,  very  easily  tenable. 
But  Nature  laughs  at  logic,  and  in  her  infinite  imagination  of 
rocks,  defies  all  Kosmos,  except  the  mighty  one  which  we, 
her  poor  puppets,  shall  never  discern.  Our  logic  will  help  us 
but  a  little  way  ; — so  far,  however,  we  will  take  its  help. 

3.  And  first,  therefore,  let  us  ask  what  questions  impera- 
tively need  answer,  concerning  indisputable  lavas,  seen  by 
living  human  eyes  to  flow  incandescent  out  of  the  earth,  and 
thereon  to  cool  into  ghastly  siags. 

On  these  I  have  practically  burnt  the  soles  of  my  boots, 
and  in  their  hollows  have  practically  roasted  eggs  ;  and  in  the 
lee  of  them,  have  been  wellnigh  choked  with  their  stench ; 
and  can  positively  testify  respecting  them,  that  they  were  in 
many  parts  once  fluid  under  power  of  fire,  in  a  very  fine  and 
soft  flux  ;  and  did  congeal  out  of  that  state  into  ropy  or  cel- 
lular masses,  variously  tormented  and  kneaded  by  explosive 
gas  ;  or  pinched  into  tortuous  tension,  as  by  diabolic  tongs  ; 
and  are  so  finally  left  by  the  powers  of  Hell,  to  submit  them- 
selves to  the  powers  of  Heaven,  in  black  or  brown  masses  of 
adamantine  sponge  without  water,  and  horrible  honeycombs 
without  honey,  interlaid  between  drifted  banks  of  earthy 
flood,  poured  down  from  merciless  clouds  whose  rain  was 
ashes. 

The  seas  that  now  beat  against  these,  have  shores  of  black 
sand  ;  the  peasant,  whose  field  is  in  these,  ploughs  with  his 
foot,  and  the  wind  harrows. 

4.  Now  of  the  outsides  of  these  lava  streams,  and  unaltered 
volcanic  ashes,  I  know  the  look  well  enough  ;  and  could  sup- 
ply Sheffield  with  any  quantity  of  characteristic  specimens, 
if  their  policy  and  trade  had  not  already  pretty  nearly  buried 
them,  and  great  part  of  England  besides,  under  such  devil's 
ware  of  their  own  production.  But  o*  the  insides  of  these 
lava  streams,  and  of  the  recognized    iterations  of  volcanic 


120 


DEUCALION. 


tufa,  I  know  nothing.  And,  accordingly,  I  want  authentic  an* 
swer  to  these  following  questions,  with  illustrative  specimens. 

5.  a.  In  lavas  which  have  been  historically  hot  to  perfect 
fusion,  so  as  to  be  progressive,  on  steep  slopes,  in  the  man- 
ner of  iron  out  of  a  furnace  in  its  pig-furrows  ; — in  such  per- 
fect lavas,  I  say — what  kind  of  difference  is  there  between  the 
substance  at  the  surface  and  at  the  extremest  known  depths, 
after  cooling  ?  It  is  evident  that  such  lavas  can  only  accumu- 
late to  great  depths  in  infernal  pools  or  lakes.  Of  such  lakes, 
which  are  the  deepest  known  ?  and  of  those  known,  where 
are  the  best  sections  ?  I  want  for  Sheffield  a  series  of  speci- 
mens of  any  well-fused  lava  anywhere,  showing  the  gradations 
of  solidity  or  crystalline  consolidation,  from  the  outside  to 
extreme  depth. 

b.  On  lavas  which  have  not  been  historically  hot,  but  of 
which  there  is  no  possible  doubt  that  they  were  once  fluent, 
(in  the  air,)  to  the  above-stated  degree,  what  changes  are 
traceable,  produced,  irrespectively  of  atmospheric  action,  by 
lapse  of  time  ?  "What  evidence  is  there  that  lavas,  once  cool 
to  their  centres,  can  sustain  any  farther  crystalline  change,  or 
re-arrangement  of  mineral  structure? 

c.  Ill  lavas  either  historically  or  indisputably  once  fluent, 
what  forms  of  silica  are  found  ?  I  limit  myself  at  present  to 
the  investigation  of  volcanic  silica:  other  geologists  will  in 
time  take  up  other  minerals  ;  but  I  find  silica  enough,  and 
more  than  enough,  for  my  life,  or  at  least  for  what  may  be 
left  of  it. 

Now  I  am  myself  rich  in  specimens  of  Hyalite,  and  Auvergne 
stellar  and  guttate  chalcedonies  ;  but  I  have  no  notion  what- 
ever how  these,  or  the  bitumen  associated  with  them,  have 
been  developed ;  and  I  shall  be  most  grateful  for  a  clear  ac- 
count of  their  locality, — possible  or  probable  mode  of  produc- 
tion in  that  locality, — and  microscopic  structure.  Of  pure 
quartz,  of  opal,  or  of  agate,  I  have  no  specimen  connected 
with  what  I  should  call  a  truly  '  living '  lava  ;  one,  that  is  to 
say,  which  has  simply  cooled  down  to  its  existing  form  from 
the  fluid  state  ;  but  I  have  sent  to  the  Sheffield  Museum  a 
piece  of  Hyalite,  on  a  living  lava,  so  much  like  a  living  wasp's 


OF  SILICA  IN  LaVAS. 


nest,  and  so  incredible  for  a  lava  at  all  to  the  general  observer, 
that  I  want  forthwith  some  help  from  my  mineralogical  friends, 
in  giving  account  of  it. 

6.  And  here  I  must,  for  a  paragraph  or  two,  pass  from  defi- 
nition of  flinty  and  molten  minerals,  to  the  more  difficult 
definition  of  flinty  and  molten  hearts  ;  in  order  to  explain  why 
the  Hyalite  which  I  have  just  sent  to  the  men  of  Sheffield,  for 
their  first  type  of  volcanic  silica,*  is  not  at  all  the  best  Hyalite 
in  my  collection.  This  is  because  I  practically  find  a  certain 
quantity  of  selfishness  necessary  to  live  by  ;  and  having  no 
manner  of  saintly  nature  in  me,  but  only  that  of  ordinary  men, 
— (which  makes  me  all  the  hotter  in  temper  when  I  can't  get 
ordinary  men  either  to  see  what  I  know  they  can  see  if  they 
look,  or  do  what  I  know  they  can  do  if  they  like,) — I  get  some- 
times weary  of  giving  things  away,  letting  my  drawers  get  into 
disorder,  and  losing  the  powers  of  observation  and  thought 
which  are  connected  with  the  complacency  of  possession,  and 
the  pleasantness  of  order.  Whereupon  I  have  resolved  to  bring 
my  own  collection  within  narrow  limits  ;  but  to  constitute  it 
resolutely  and  irrevocably  of  chosen  and  curious  pieces,  for  my 
own  pleasure ;  trusting  that  they  may  be  afterwards  cared  for 
by  some  of  the  persons  who  knew  me,  when  I  myself  am 
troubled  with  care  no  more.f 

7.  This  piece  of  Hyalite,  however,  just  sent  to  Sheffield, 
though  not  my  best,  is  the  most  curiously  definite  example  I 
ever  saw.  It  is  on  a  bit  of  brown  lava,  which  looks,  as  afore- 
said, a  little  way  off,  exactly  like  a  piece  of  a  wasp's  nest :  seen 
closer,  the  cells  are  not  hexagonal,  but  just  like  a  cast  of  a 
spoonful  of  pease  !  the  spherical  hollows  having  this  of  nota- 
ble in  them,  that  they  are  only  as  close  to  each  other  as  they 
can  be,  to  admit  of  their  being  perfectly  round :  therefore,  neces- 

*  I  give  tlie  description  of  these  seven  pieces  of  Hyalite  at  Sheffield, 
in  Deucalion,  because  their  description  is  necessary  to  explain  certain 
general  principles  of  arrangement  and  nomenclature. 

f  By  the  way,  this  selfish  collection  is  to  be  primarily  of  stones  that 
will  icash.  Of  petty  troubles,  none  are  more  fretting  than  the  effect  of 
dust  on  minerals  that  can  neither  be  washed  nor  brushed.  Hence,  my 
specialty  of  liking  for  silica,  felspar,  and  the  granitic  or  gneissic  rocks. 


122 


DEUCALION. 


sarily,  with  little  spaces  of  solid  stone  between  them.  I  have 
not  the  slightest  notion  how  such  a  lava  can  be  produced.  It 
is  like  an  oolite  with  the  yolks  of  its  eggs  dropped  out,  and 
not  in  the  least  like  a  ductile  substance  churned  into  foam  by 
expansive  gas. 

8.  On  this  my sterious  bit  of  gaseous  wasp's  nest,  the  Hya- 
lite seems  to  have  been  dropped,  like  drops  of  glass  from  a  melt- 
ing glass  rod.  It  seems  to  touch  the  lava  just  as  little  as  it  can  ; 
sticks  at  once  on  the  edges  of  the  cells,  and  laps  over  without  run- 
ning into,  much  less  filling  them.  There  is  not  any  appearance, 
and  I  think  no  possibility,  of  exudation  having  taken  place  ; 
the  silica  cannot  but,  I  think,  have  been  deposited  ;  and  it  is 
stuck  together  just  as  if  it  had  fallen  in  drops,  which  is  what 
I  mean  by  calling  Hyalite  characteristically  6  guttate  5 ;  but  it 
shows,  nevertheless,  a  tendency  to  something  like  crystalliza- 
tion, in  irregularities  of  surface  like  those  of  glacier  ice,  or  the 
kind  of  old  Venetian  glass  which  is  rough,  and  apparently  of 
lumps  coagulated.  The  fracture  is  splendidly  vitreous, — the 
substance,  mostly  quite  clear,  but  in  parts  white  and  opaque. 

9.  Now  although  no  other  specimen  that  I  have  yet  seen  is 
so  manifestly  guttate  as  this,  all  the  Irpalites  I  know  agree  in 
approximate  conditions  ;  and  associate  themselves  with  forms 
of  chalcedony  which  exactly  resemble  the  droppings  from  a 
fine  wax  candle.  Such  heated  waxen  effluences,  as  they  con- 
geal, will  be  found  thrown  into  flattened  coats  ;  and  the  chal- 
cedonies in  question  on  the  under  surface  precisely  resemble 
them  ;  while  on  the  upper  they  become  more  or  less  crystalline, 
and,  in  some  specimens,  form  lustrous  stellar  crystals  in  the 
centre. 

10.  Now,  observe,  this  chalcedony,  capable  of  crystallization, 
differs  wholly  from  chalcedony  properly  so  called,  which  may 
indeed  be  covered  with  crystals,  but  itself  remains  consistently 
smooth  in  surface,  as  true  Hyalite  does,  also. 

Not  to  be  teazed  with  too  many  classes,  however,  I  shall  ar- 
range these  peculiar  chalcedonies  with  Hyalite  ;  and,  accord- 
ingly, I  send  next  to  the  Sheffield  Museum,  to  follow  this 
first  Hyalite,  an  example  of  the  transition  from  Hyalite  to 
dropped  chalcedony,  (x.  h.  2,)  being  an  Indian  volcanic  chai- 


OF  SILICA  IN  LA  VAS. 


123 


cedony,  translucent,  aggregated  like  Hyalite,  and  showing  a 
concave  fracture  where  a  ball  of  it  has  been  broken  out. 

11.  Next,  (i.  h.  3,)  pure  dropped  chalcedony.  I  do  not  like 
the  word  '  dropped  '  in  this  use, — so  that,  instead,  I  shall  call 
this  in  future  wax  chalcedony  ;  then  (i.  h.  4)  the  same  form, 
with  crystalline  surface, — this  I  shall  henceforward  call  sugar 
chalcedony  ;  and,  lastly,  the  ordinary  stellar  form  of  Auvergne, 
star  chalcedony  (i.  h.  5). 

These  five  examples  are  typical,  and  perfect  in  their  kind  : 
next  to  them  (i.  h.  6)  I  place  a  wax  chalcedony  formed  on  a 
porous  rock,  (volcanic  ash  ?)  which  has  at  the  surface  of  it 
small  circular  concavities,  being  also  so  irregularly  coagulate 
thoughout  that  it  suggests  no  mode  of  deposition  whatever, 
and  is  peculiar,  in  this  also,  that  it  is  thinner  in  the  centre 
than  at  the  edges,  and  that  no  vestige  of  its  substance  occurs 
in  the  pores  of  the  rock  it  overlies. 

Take  a  piece  of  porous  broken  brick,  drop  any  tallowy  com- 
position over  four  or  five  inches  square  of  its  surface,  to  the 
depth  of  one-tenth  of  an  inch  ;  then  drop  more  on  the  edges 
till  you  have  a  rampart  round,  the  third  of  an  inch  thick  ;  and 
you  wrill  have  some  likeness  of  this  piece  of  stone  :  but  how 
Nature  held  the  composition  in  her  fingers,  or  composed  it  to 
be  held,  I  leave  you  to  guess,  for  I  cannot. 

12.  Next  following,  I  place  the  most  singular  example  of 
ail  (i.  h.  7).  The  chalcedony  in  i.  h.  6  is  apparently  dropped 
on  the  ashes,  and  of  irregular  thickness  ;  it  is  difficult  to  un- 
derstand how  it  was  dropped,  but  once  get  Nature  to  hold  the 
candle,  and  the  thing  is  done. 

But  here,  in  i.  h.  7,  it  is  no  longer  apparently  dropped,  but 
apparently  boiled  !  It  rises  like  the  bubbles  of  a  strongly  boil- 
ing liquid  ; — but  not  from  a  liquid  mass  ;  on  the  contrary, 
(except  in  three  places,  presently  to  be  described,)  it  coats  the 
volcanic  ash  in  perfectly  even  thickness — a  quarter  of  an  inch, 
and  no  more,  nor  less,  everywhere,  over  a  space  five  inches 
square  !  and  the  ash,  or  lava,  itself,  instead  of  being  porous 
throughout  the  mass,  writh  the  silica  only  on  the  surface,  is, 
filled  with  chalcedony  in  every  cavity ! 

Now  this  specimen  completes  the  transitional  series  from 


124 


DEUCALION. 


hyalite  to  perfect  chalcedony  ;  and  with  these  seven  speci- 
mens, in  order,  before  us,  we  can  define  some  things,  and 
question  of  others,  with  great  precision. 

13.  First,  observe  that  all  the  first  six  pieces  agree  in  two 
conditions, — varying,  and  coagulated,  thickness  of  the  deposit. 
But  the  seventh  has  the  remarkable  character  of  equal,  and 
therefore  probably  crystalline,  deposition  everywhere. 

Secondly.  In  the  first  six  specimens,  though  the  coagula- 
tions are  more  or  less  rounded,  none  of  them  are  regularly 
spherical.  But  in  the  seventh,  though  the  larger  bubbles  (so 
to  call  them)  are  subdivided  into  many  small  ones,  every  un- 
interrupted piece  of  the  surface  is  a  portion  of  a  sphere,  as  in 
true  bubbles. 

Thirdly.  The  sugar  chalcedony,  i.  h.  4,  and  stellar  chal- 
cedony, i.  h.  5,  show  perfect  power  of  assuming,  under  favour- 
able conditions,  prismatic  crystalline  form.  But  there  is  no 
trace  of  such  tendency  in  the  first  three,  or  last  two,  of  the 
seven  examples.  Nor  has  there  ever,  so  far  as  I  know,  been 
found  prismatic  true  hyalite,  or  prismatic  true  chalcedony. 

Therefore  wre  have  here  essentially  three  different  minerals, 
passing  into  each  other,  it  is  true  ;  but,  at  a  certain  point, 
changing  their  natures  definitely,  so  that  hyalite,  becoming  wax 
chalcedony,  gains  the  power  of  prismatic  crystallization  ;  and 
wax  chalcedony,  becoming  true  chalcedony,  loses  it  again  ! 

And  now  I  must  pause,  to  explain  rightly  this  term  1  pris- 
matic,' and  others  which  are  now  in  use,  or  which  are  to  be 
used,  in  St.  George's  schools,  in  describing  crystallization. 

14.  A  prism,  (the  sawn  thing,)  in  Newton's  use  of  the  word, 
is  a  triangular  pillar  with  fiat  top  and  bottom.  Putting  two 
or  more  of  these  together,  we  can  make  pillars  of  any  number 
of  plane  sides,  in  any  regular  or  irregular  shape.  Crystals, 
therefore,  which  are  columnar,  and  thick  enough  to  be  dis- 
tinctly seen,  are  called  '  prismatic' 

2.  But  crystals  which  are  columnar,  and  so  delicate  that  they 

look  like  needles,  are  called  '  acicular,'  from  acus,  a  needle. 

3.  When  such  crystals  become  so  fine  that  they  look  like  bail- 

or down,  and  lie  in  confused  directions,  the  mineral 
composed  of  them  is  called  6  plumose.' 


Plate  V. — Structure  of  Lake  Agate. 


OF  SILICA  IN  LAVAS. 


125 


4.  And  when  they  adhere  together  closely  by  their  sides,  the 

mineral  is  called  1  fibrous/ 

5.  When  a  crystal  is  flattened  by  the  extension  of  two  of  its 

planes,  so  as  to  look  like  a  board,  it  is  called  '  tabular ' ; 
but  people  don't  call  it  a  '  tabula/ 
6c  But  when  such  a  board  becomes  very  thin,  it  is  called  a 
'lamina/  and  the  mineral  composed  of  many  such 
plates,  laminated. 

7.  When  laminae  are  so  thin  that,  joining  with  others  equally 

so,  they  form  fine  leaves,  the  mineral  is  c  foliate.' 

8.  And  when  these  leaves  are  capable  of  perpetual  subdivision, 

the  mineral  is  '  micaceous.' 

15.  Now,  so  far  as  i  know  their  works,  mineralogists  hith- 
erto have  never  attempted  to  show  cause  why  some  minerals 
rejoice  in  longitude,  others  in  latitude,  and  others  in  plati- 
tude. They  indicate  to  their  own  satisfaction, — that  is  to  say, 
in  a  manner  totally  incomprehensible  by  the  public, — all  the 
modes  of  expatiation  possible  to  the  mineral,  by  cardinal 
points  on  a  sphere  :  but  why  a  crystal  of  ruby  likes  to  be 
short  and  fat,  and  a  crystal  of  rutile,  long  and  lean  ;  why 
amianth  should  bind  itself  into  bundles  of  threads,  cuprite 
weave  itself  into  tissues,  and  silver  braid  itself  into  nests. — ■ 
the  use,  in  fact,  that  any  mineral  makes  of  its  opportunities, 
and  the  cultivation  which  it  gives  to  its  faculties, — of  all  this, 
my  mineralogical  authorities  tell  me  nothing.  Industry,  in- 
deed, is  theirs  to  a  quite  infinite  degree,  in  pounding,  decoct- 
ing, weighing,  measuring,  but  they  have  remained  just  as  un- 
conscious as  vivisecting  physicians  that  all  this  was  only  the 
anatomy  of  dust, — not  its  history. 

But  here  at  last,  in  Cumberland,  I  find  a  friend,  Mr.  Clifton 
Ward,  able  and  willing  to  begin  some  true  history  of  mineral 
substance,  and  far  advanced  already  in  preliminary  discovery  ; 
and  in  answer  to  my  request  for  help,  taking  up  this  first  hy- 
alitic  problem,  he  has  sent  me  the  drawings — engraved,  I 
regret  to  say,  with  little  justice  to  their  delicacy;* — in 
Plate  V. 

*  But  not  by  my  fault,  for  I  told  the  engraver  to  do  his  best ;  and 
took  more  trouble  with  the  plate  than  with  any  of  my  own. 


126 


DEUCALION. 


16.  This  plate  represents,  in  Figure  1,  the  varieties  of 
structure  in  an  inch  vertical  section  of  a  lake-agate ;  and  ic 
Figures  2,  3,  4,  and  5,  still  farther  magnified  portions  of  the 
layers  so  numbered  in  Figure  1. 

Figures  6  to  9  represent  the  structure  and  effect  of  polar- 
ized light  in  a  lake-agate  of  more  distinctly  crystalline  struct- 
ure ;  and  Figures  10  to  13,  the  orbicular  concretions  of  vol- 
canic Indian  chalcedony.  But  before  entering  farther  on  the 
description  of  these  definitely  concretionary  bands,  I  think  it 
will  be  desirable  to  take  note  of  some  facts  regarding  the 
larger  bands  of  our  Westmoreland  mountains,  which  become 
to  me,  the  more  I  climb  them,  mysterious  to  a  point  scarcely 
tolerable  ;  and  only  the  more  so,  in  consequence  of  their  re- 
cent more  accurate  survey. 

17.  Leaving  their  pebbles,  therefore,  for  a  little  while,  I 
will  ask  my  readers  to  think  over  some  of  the  conditions  of 
their  crags  and  pools,  explained  as  best  I  could,  in  the  follow- 
ing lecture,  to  the  Literary  and  Scientific  Society  of  the  town 
of  Kendal.  For  indeed,  beneath  the  evermore  blessed  Kendal- 
green  of  their  sweet  meadows  and  moors,  the  secrets  of  hill- 
structure  remain,  for  all  the  work  spent  on  them,  in  colour- 
less darkness  ;  and  indeed,  "  So  dark,  Hal,,  that  thou  could'st 
not  see  thine  hand." 


CHAPTER  XH. 

YEWDALE   AND   ITS  STREAMLETS. 

Lecture  delivered  before  the  Members  of  the  Literary  and 
Scientific  Institution,  Kendal,  1st  October,  1877. 

1.  I  fear  that  some  of  my  hearers  may  think  an  apology  due 
to  them  for  having  brought,  on  the  first  occasion  of  my  being 
honoured  by  their  audience,  a  subject  before  them  which  they 
may  suppose  unconnected  with  my  own  special  work,  past  or 
present.  But  the  truth  is,  I  knew  mountains  long  before  I 
knew  pictures  ;  and  these  mountains  of  yours,  before  any 


TEWDALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


127 


other  mountains.  From  this  town,  of  Kendal,  I  went  out,  a 
child,  to  the  first  joyful  excursions  among  the  Cumberland 
lakes,  which  formed  my  love  of  landscape  and  of  painting : 
and  now,  being  an  old  man,  I  find  myself  more  and  more 
glad  to  return — and  pray  you  to-night  to  return  with  me — 
from  shadows  to  the  reality. 

I  do  not,  however,  believe  that  one  in  a  hundred  of  our 
youth,  or  of  our  educated  classes,  out  of  directly  scientific 
circles,  take  any  real  interest  in  geology.  And  for  my  own 
part,  I  do  not  wonder, — for  it  seems  to  me  that  geology  tells 
us  nothing  really  interesting.  It  tells  us  much  about  a  world 
that  once  was.  But,  for  my  part,  a  world  that  only  was,  is 
as  little  interesting  as  a  world  that  only  is  to  be.  I  no  more 
care  to  hear  of  the  forms  of  mountains  that  crumbled  away  a 
million  of  years  ago  to  leave  room  for  the  town  of  Kendal, 
than  of  forms  of  mountains  that  some  future  day  may  swallow 
up  the  town  of  Kendal  in  the  cracks  of  them.  I  am  only  in- 
terested— so  ignoble  and  unspeculative  is  my  disposition — in 
knowing  how  God  made  the  Castle  Hill  of  Kendal,  for  the 
Baron  of  it  to  build  on,  and  how  he  brought  the  Kent  through 
the  dale  of  it,  for  its  people  and  flocks  to  drink  of. 

2.  And  these  things,  if  you  think  of  them,  you  will  find  are 
precisely  what  the  geologists  cannot  tell  you.  They  never 
trouble  themselves  about  matters  so  recent,  or  so  visible  ; 
and  w^hile  you  may  always  obtain  the  most  satisfactory  in- 
formation from  them  respecting  the  congelation  of  the  whole 
globe  out  of  gas,  or  the  direction  of  it  in  space,  there  is  really 
not  one  who  can  explain  to  you  the  making  of  a  pebble,  or 
the  running  of  a  rivulet. 

May  I,  however,  before  pursuing  my  poor  little  inquiry  into 
these  trifling  matters,  congratulate  those  members  of  my 
audience  who  delight  more  in  literature  than  science,  on  the 
possession,  not  only  of  dales  in  reality,  but  of  dales  in  name. 
Consider,  for  an  instant  or  two,  how  much  is  involved,  how 
much  indicated,  by  our  possession  in  English  of  the  six  quite 
distinct  words— vale,  valley,  dale,  dell,  glen,  and  dingle  ;— 
consider  the  gradations  of  character  in  scene^  and  fineness  of 
observation  in  the  inhabitants,  implied  by  that  six-foil  cluster 


DEUCALION. 


of  words  ;  as  compared  to  the  simple  '  thai '  of  the  Germans, 
c  valle  I  of  the  Italians,  and  '  vallee  '  of  the  French,  shortening 
into  'vaT  merely  for  ease  of  pronunciation,  but  having  no 
variety  of  sense  whatever  ;  so  that,  supposing  I  want  to  trans- 
late, for  the  benefit  of  an  Italian  friend,  Wordsworth's  *  Rev- 
erie of  Poor  Susan/  and  come  to  u  Green  pastures  she  views 
in  the  midst  of  the  dale,"  and  look  for  4 dale'  in  my  Italian 
dictionary,  I  find  "valle  lunga  e  stretta  tra  poggi  aiti,"  and 
can  only  convey  Mr.  Wordsworth's  meaning  to  my  Italian  lis- 
tener by  telling  him  that  "la  povera  Susanna  vede  verdi 
prati,  nel  mezzo  della  valle  lunga  e  stretta  tra  poggi  alti  " ! 
It  is  worth  while,  both  for  geological  and  literary  reasons,  to 
trace  the  essential  differences  in  the  meaning  and  proper  use 
of  these  words. 

3.  *  Vale '  signifies  a  large  extent  of  level  land,  surrounded 
by  hills,  or  nearly  so  ;  as  the  Vale  of  the  White  Horse,  or 
Vale  of  Severn.  The  level  extent  is  necessary  to  the  idea  ; 
while  the  next  word,  6  valley,'  means  a  large  hollow  among 
hills,  in  which  there  is  little  level  ground,  or  none.  Next 
comes  '  dale,'  which  signifies  properly  a  tract  of  level  land  on 
the  borders  of  a  stream,  continued  for  so  great  a  distance  as 
to  make  it  a  district  of  importance  as  a  part  of  the  inhabited 
country  ;  as  Ennerdale,  Langdale,  Liddesdale.  '  Dell '  is  to 
dale,  what  valley  is  to  vale  ;  and  implies  that  there  is  scarcely 
any  level  land  beside  the  stream.  '  Dingle  '  is  such  a  recess 
or  dell  clothed  with  wood  ;  *  and  '  glen '  one  varied  with 
rocks.  The  term  'ravine,'  a  rent  chasm  among  rocks,  has  its 
necessary  parallel  in  other  languages. 

Our  richness  of  expression  in  these  particulars  may  be 
traced  to  the  refinement  of  our  country  life,  chiefly  since  the 
fifteenth  century  ;  and  to  the  poetry  founded  on  the  ancient 
character  of  the  Border  peasantry ;  mingling  agricultural 
with  shepherd  life  in  almost  equal  measure. 

I  am  about  to  endeavour,  then,  to  lay  before  you  this  even- 

*  Connected  partly,  I  doubt  not,  with  Ingle,  or  Inglewood,— "brush- 
wood to  burn,  (hence  Justice  Inglewood  in  '  Hob  Roy ').  I  have  still 
omitted  'clough,'  or  cleugh,  given  by  Johnson  in  relation  to  'dingle,' 
and  constant  in  Scott,  from  '  Gander-cleugh '  to  4  Buc(k)- cleugh.' 


T E WD ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


129 


ing  the  geological  laws  which  have  produced  the  'dale/ 
properly  so  called,  of  which  I  take — for  a  swTeet  and  near  ex- 
ample— the  green  piece  of  meadow  land  through  which  flows, 
into  Coniston  Water,  the  brook  that  chiefly  feeds  it. 

4.  And  now,  before  going  farther,  let  me  at  once  vindicate 
myself  from  the  blame  of  not  doing  full  justice  to  the  earnest 
continuance  of  labour,  and  excellent  subtlety  of  investigation, 
by  which  Mr.  Aveline  and  Mr.  Clifton  Ward  have  presented 
you  with  the  marvellous  maps  and  sections  of  this  district, 
now  in  course  of  publication  in  the  Geological  Survey.  Es- 
pecially let  me,  in  the  strongest  terms  of  grateful  admiration, 
refer  to  the  results  which  have  been  obtained  by  the  micro- 
scopic observations  of  minerals  instituted  by  Mr.  Sorby,  and 
carried  out  indefatigably  by  Mr.  Clifton  Ward,  forming  the 
first  sound  foundations  laid  for  the  solution  of  the  most 
secret  problems  of  geology. 

5.  But  while  I  make  this  most  sincere  acknowledgment  of 
what  has  been  done  by  these  gentlemen,  and  by  their  brother 
geologists  in  the  higher  paths  of  science,  I  must  yet  in  all 
humility  lament  that  this  vast  fund  of  gathered  knowledge  is 
every  bit  of  it,  hitherto,  beyond  you  and  me.  Dealing  only 
with  infinitude  of  space  and  remoteness  of  time,  it  leaves  us 
as  ignorant  as  ever  we  were,  or  perhaps,  in  fancying  ourselves 
wiser,  even  more  ignorant,  of  the  things  that  are  near  us  and 
around, — of  the  brooks  that  sing  to  us,  the  rocks  that  guard 
us,  and  the  fields  that  feed. 

6.  To-night,  therefore,  I  am  here  for  no  other  purpose  than 
to  ask  the  simplest  questions  ;  and  to  win  your  interest,  if  it 
may  be,  in  pleading  with  our  geological  teachers  for  the  an- 
swers which  as  yet  they  disdain  to  give. 

Here,  in  your  long  winding  dale  of  the  Kent, — and  over  the 
hills,  in  my  little  nested  dale  of  the  Yew, — will  you  ask  the 
geologist,  with  me,  to  tell  us  how  their  pleasant  depth  was 
opened  for  us,  and  their  lovely  borders  built.  For,  as  yet, 
this  is  all  that  we  are  told  concerning  them,  by  accumulated 
evidence  of  geology,  as  collected  in  this  summary  at  the  end 
of  the  first  part  of  Mr.  Clifton  Ward's  volume  on  the  geology 
of  the  lakes  : — 


130 


DEUCALION. 


"  The  most  ancient  geologic  records  in  the  district  indicate 
marine  conditions  with  a  probable  proximity  of  land.  Sub- 
marine volcanoes  broke  out  during  the  close  of  this  period, 
followed  by  an  elevation  of  land,  with  continued  volcanic 
eruptions,  of  which  perhaps  the  present  site  of  Keswick  was 
one  of  the  chief  centres.  Depression  of  the  volcanic  district 
then  ensued  beneath  the  sea,  with  the  probable  cessation  of 
volcanic  activity ;  much  denudation  was  effected  ;  another 
slight  volcanic  outburst  accompanied  the  formation  of  the 
Coniston  Limestone,  and  then  the  old  deposits  of  Skiddaw 
Slate  and  volcanic  material  were  buried  thousands  of  feet 
deep  beneath  strata  formed  in  an  upper  Silurian  sea.  Next 
followed  an  immensely  long  period  of  elevation,  accompanied 
by  disturbance  and  alteration  of  the  rocks,  and  by  a  prodigious 
amount  of  marine  and  atmospheric  denudation.  A  subse- 
quent depression,  to  a  considerable  extent,  marked  the  coming 
on  of  the  Carboniferous  epoch,  heralded  however,  in  all  like- 
lihood, by  a  period  of  more  or  less  intense  cold.  Then  for 
succeeding  ages,  the  district  elevated  high  above  the  surround- 
ing seas  of  later  times,  underwent  that  large  amount  of  sub- 
aerial  denudation  which  has  resulted  in  the  formation  of  our 
beautiful  English  Lake-country." 

7.  The  only  sentence  in  this  passage  of  the  smallest  service 
to  us,  at  present,  is  that  stating  the  large  amount  of  '  sub- 
aerial  denudation '  which  formed  our  beautiful  country. 

Putting  the  geological  language  into  simple  English,  that 
means  that  your  dales  and  hills  were  produced  by  being 
<  rubbed  down  in  the  open  air/ — rubbed  down,  that  is  to  say, 
in  the  manner  in  which  people  are  rubbed  down  after  a 
Turkish  bath,  so  as  to  have  a  good  deal  of  their  skin  taken  off 
them.  But  observe,  it  would  be  just  as  rational  to  say  that 
the  beauty  of  the  human  form  was  owing  to  the  immemorial 
and  continual  use  of  the  flesh-brush,  as  that  we  owe  the 
beauty  of  our  mountains  to  the  mere  fact  of  their  having  been 
rubbed  away.  No  quantity  of  stripping  or  denuding  will 
give  beauty  when  there  is  none  to  denude  ; — you  cannot  rub 
a  statue  out  of  a  sandbank,  or  carve  the  Elgin  frieze  with 
rottenstone  for  a  chisel,  and  chance  to  drive  it. 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


131 


8.  We  have  to  ask  then,  first,  what  material  there  was  here 
to  carve  ;  and  then  what  sort  of  chisels,  and  in  what  work- 
man's hand,  were  used  to  produce  this  large  piece  of  precious 
chasing  or  embossed  work,  which  we  call  Cumberland  and 
Weste-more-land. 

I  think  we  shall  get  at  our  subject  most  clearly,  however, 
by  taking  a  somewhat  wider  view  of  it  than  our  own  dales 
permit,  and  considering  what  '  sub-aerial  denudation '  means, 
on  the  surface  of  the  world,  instead  of  in  "Westmoreland  only. 

9.  Broadly,  therefore,  we  have,  forming  a  great  part  of  that 
surface,  vast  plains  or  steppes,  like  the  levels  of  France,  and 
lowlands  of  England,  and  prairies  of  America,  composed 
mostly  of  horizontal  beds  of  soft  stone  or  gravel.  Nobody  in 
general  talks  of  these  having  been  rubbed  down ;  so  little, 
indeed,  that  I  really  do  not  myself  know  what  the  notions  of 
geologists  are  on  the  matter.  They  tell  me  that  some  four- 
and-twenty  thousand  feet  or  so  of  slate — say,  four  miles  thick 
of  slate — must  have  been  taken  off  the  top  of  Skiddaw  to 
grind  that  into  what  it  is  ;  but  I  don't  know  in  the  least  how 
much  chalk  or  freestone  they  think  has  been  ground  off  the 
East  Cliff  at  Brighton,  to  flatten  that  into  what  it  is.  They 
tell  me  that  Mont  Blanc  must  have  been  three  times  as  high 
as  he  is  now,  when  God,  or  the  affinity  of  atoms,  first  made 
him  ;  but  give  me  no  idea  whatever  how  much  higher  the 
shore  of  the  Adriatic  was  than  it  is  now,  before  the  lagoon  of 
Venice  was  rubbed  out  of  it. 

10.  Collecting  and  inferring  as  best  I  can,  it  seems  to  me 
they  mean  generally  that  all  the  mountains  were  much  higher 
than  they  are  now,  and  all  the  plains  lower  ;  and  that  what 
has  been  scraped  off  the  one  has  been  heaped  on  to  the 
other  :  but  that  is  by  no  means  generally  so  ;  and  in  the  de- 
gree in  which  it  is  so,  hitherto  has  been  unexplained,  and  has 
even  the  aspect  of  being  inexplicable. 

I  don't  know  what  sort  of  models  of  the  district  you  have 
in  the  Museum,  but  the  kind  commonly  sold  represent  the 
entire  mountain  surface  merely  as  so  much  sandheap  washed 
into  gutters.  It  is  totally  impossible  for  your  youth,  while 
these  false  impressions  are  conveyed  by  the  cheap  tricks  of 


132 


DEUCALION. 


geographical  manufacture,  to  approach  the  problems  of  moun- 
tain form  under  any  sense  of  their  real  conditions  :  while 
even  advanced  geologists  are  too  much  in  the  habit  of  think- 
ing that  every  mountain  mass  may  be  considered  as  a  heap  of 
homogeneous  clay,  which  some  common  plough  has  fretted 
into  similar  clods. 

But  even  to  account  for  the  furrows  of  a  field  you  must  ask 
for  plough  and  ploughman.  How  much  more  to  account  for 
the  furrows  of  the  adamantine  rock.  Shall  one  plough  there 
with  oxen  ? 

I  will  ask  you,  therefore,  to-night,  to  approach  this  question 
in  its  first  and  simplest  terms,  and  to  examine  the  edge  of  the 
weapon  which  is  supposed  to  be  still  at  work.  The  streamlets 
of  the  dale  seem  yet  in  many  places  to  be  excavating  their 
glens  as  they  dash  down  them, — or  deepening  the  pools  under 
their  cascades.  Let  us  in  such  simple  and  daily  visible  matters 
consider  more  carefully  what  are  the  facts. 

11.  Towards  the  end  of  July,  this  last  summer,  I  was  saun- 
tering among  the  fern,  beside  the  bed  of  the  Yewdale  stream, 
and  stopped,  as  one  does  instinctively,  at  a  place  where  the 
stream  stopped  also, — bending  itself  round  in  a  quiet  brown 
eddy  under  the  root  of  an  oak  tree. 

How  many  thousand  thousand  times  have  I  not  stopped  to 
look  down  into  the  pools  of  a  mountain  stream, — and  yet  never 
till  that  day  had  it  occurred  to  me  to  ask  how  the  pools  came 
there.  As  a  matter  of  course,  I  had  always  said  to  myself, 
there  must  be  deep  places  and  shallow  ones, — and  where  the 
water  is  deep  there  is  an  eddy,  and  where  it  is  shallow  there 
is  a  ripple, — and  what  more  is  there  to  say  about  it? 

However,  that  day,  having  been  of  late  in  an  interrogative 
humour  about  everything,  it  did  suddenly  occur  to  me  to  ask 
why  the  water  should  be  deep  there,  more  than  anywhere  else. 
This  pool  was  at  a  bend  of  the  stream,  and  rather  a  wide  part 
of  it ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that,  for  the  most  part,  of  the  deep 
pools  I  recollected  had  been  at  bends  of  streams,  and  in  rather 
wide  parts  of  them  ; — with  the  accompanying  condition  of 
slow  circular  motion  in  the  water ;  and  also,  mostly  under 
steep  banks. 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


133 


12.  Gathering  my  fifty  years'  experience  of  brooks,  this 
seemed  to  me  a  tenable  generalization,  that  on  the  whole, 
where  the  bank  was  steepest,  and  one  was  most  likely  to  tum- 
ble in,  one  was  least  likely  to  get  out  again. 

And  that  gloomily  slow  and  sullen  motion  on  the  surface, 
as  if  the  bubbles  were  unwillingly  going  round  in  a  mill, — 
this  also  I  recollected  as  a  usual  condition  of  the  deeper  water, 
— so  usual,  indeed,  that  (as  I  say)  I  never  once  before  had 
reflected  upon  it  as  the  least  odd.  Whereas  now,  the  thought 
struck  me  as  I  looked,  and  struck  me  harder  as  I  looked  longer, 
If  the  bubbles  stay  at  the  top,  why  don't  the  stones  stay  at  the 
bottom  ?  If,  when  I  throw  in  a  stick  here  in  the  back  eddy 
at  the  surface,  it  keeps  spinning  slowly  round  and  round,  and 
never  goes  down-stream — am  I  to  expect  that  when  I  throw  a 
stone  into  the  same  eddy,  it  will  be  immediately  lifted  by  it 
out  of  the  hole  and  carried  away  ?  And  yet  unless  the  water 
at  the  bottom  of  the  hole  has  this  power  of  lifting  stones  out 
of  it,  why  is  the  hole  not  filled  up  ? 

13.  Coming  to  this  point  of  the  question,  I  looked  up  the 
beck,  and  down.  Up  the  beck,  above  the  pool,  there  was  a 
shallow  rapid  over  innumerable  stones  of  all  sizes  :  and  down 
the  beck,  just  below  the  pool,  there  was  a  ledge  of  rock,  against 
which  the  stream  had  deposited  a  heap  of  rolled  shingle,  and 
over  the  edges  of  which  it  flowed  in  glittering  tricklets,  so 
shallow  that  a  child  of  four  years  old  might  have  safely  waded 
across  ;  and  between  the  loose  stones  above  in  the  steep  rapid, 
and  the  ledge  of  rock  below — which  seemed  put  there  ex- 
pressly for  them  to  be  lodged  against — here  was  this  deep,  and 
wide,  and  quiet,  pool. 

So  I  stared  at  it,  and  stared  ;  and  the  more  I  stared,  the 
Jess  I  understood  it.  And  if  you  like,  any  of  you  may  easily 
go  and  stare  too,  for  the  pool  in  question  is  visible  enough 
from  the  coach-road,  from  Mr.  Sly's  Waterhead  Inn,  up  to  Til- 
berthwaite.  You  turn  to  the  right  from  the  bridge  at  Mr. 
Bowness's  smithy,  and  then  in  a  quarter  of  a  mile  you  may 
look  over  the  roadside  wall  into  this  quiet  recess  of  the  stream, 
and  consider  of  many  things.  For,  observe,  if  there  were  any- 
thing out  of  the  way  in  the  pool — I  should  not  send  you  to 


134 


DEUCALION. 


look  at  it.  I  mark  it  only  for  one  of  myriads  such  in  every 
mountain  stream  that  ever  trout  leaped  or  ripple  laughed  in. 

And  beside  it,  as  a  type  of  ail  its  brother  deeps,  these  fol- 
lowing questions  may  be  wisely  put  to  yourselves. 

14.  First— How  are  any  of  the  pools  kept  clear  in  a  stream 
that  carries  shingle  ?  There  is  some  power  the  water  has  got 
of  lifting  it  out  of  the  deeps  hitherto  unexplained — unthought 
of.  Coming  down  the  rapid  in  a  rage,  it  drops  the  stones, 
and  leaves  them  behind  ;  coming  to  the  deep  hole,  where  it 
seems  to  have  no  motion,  it  picks  them  up  and  carries  them 
away  in  its  pocket.    Explain  that. 

15.  But,  secondly,  beside  this  pool  let  us  listen  to  the  wide 
murmuring  geological  voice,  telling  us — "To  sub-aerial  denu- 
dation you  owe  your  beautiful  lake  scenery  "  ! — Then,  presum- 
ably, Yewdale  among  the  rest  ? — Therefore  we  may  look  upon 
Yewdale  as  a  dale  sub-aerially  denuded.  That  is  to  say,  there 
was  once  a  time  wThen  no  dale  was  there,  and  the  process  of 
denudation  has  excavated  it  to  the  depth  you  see. 

16.  But  now  I  can  ask,  more  definitely  and  clearly,  With 
what  chisel  has  this  hollow  been  hewn  for  us  ?  Of  course,  the 
geologist  replies,  by  the  frost,  and  the  rain,  and  the  decom- 
position of  its  rocks.  Good  ;  but  though  frost  may  break  up, 
and  the  rain  wash  down,  there  must  have  been  somebody 
to  cart  away  the  rubbish,  or  still  you  would  have  had  no 
Yewdale.  Well,  of  course,  again  the  geologist  answers,  the 
streamlets  are  the  carters ;  and  this  stream  past  Mr.  Bow- 
ness's  smithy  is  carter-in-chief. 

17.  How  many  cartloads,  then,  may  we  suppose  the  stream 
has  carried  past  Mr.  Bowness's,  before  it  carted  away  all  Yew- 
dale to  this  extent,  and  cut  out  all  the  northern  side  of  Weth- 
erlam,  and  all  that  precipice  of  Yewdale  Crag,  and  carted  all 
the  rubbish  first  into  Coniston  Lake,  and  then  out  of  it  again, 
and  so  down  the  Crake  into  the  sea  ?  Oh,  the  geologists  re- 
ply, we  don't  mean  that  the  little  Crake  did  all  that.  Of 
course  it  was  a  great  river  full  of  crocodiles  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  long  ;  or  it  was  a  glacier  five  miles  thick,  going  ten  miles 
an  hour  ;  or  a  sea  of  hot  water  fifty  miles  deep, — or, — some- 
thing of  that  sort.    Well,  I  have  no  interest,  myself,  in  any* 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


135 


thing  of  that  sort :  and  1  want  to  know,  here,  at  the  side  of 
my  little  puzzler  of  a  pool,  whether  there's  any  sub-aerial 
denudation  going  on  still,  and  whether  this  visible  Crake, 
though  it  can  only  do  little,  does  anything.  Is  it  carrying 
stones  at  all,  now,  past  Mr.  Bowness's  ?  Of  course,  reply  the 
geologists  ;  don't  you  see  the  stones  all  along  it,  and  doesn't 
it  bring  down  more  every  flood  ?  Well,  yes ;  the  delta  of 
Coniston  Waterhead  may,  perhaps,  within  the  memory  of  the 
oldest  inhabitant,  or  within  the  last  hundred  years,  have  ad- 
vanced a  couple  of  yards  or  so.  At  that  rate,  those  two 
streams,  considered  as  navvies,  are  proceeding  with  the  works 
in  hand  ;— to  that  extent  they  are  indeed  filling  up  the  lake, 
and  to  that  extent  sub-aerially  denuding  the  mountains.  But 
now,  I  must  ask  your  attention  very  closely :  for  I  have  a 
strict  bit  of  logic  to  put  before  you,  which  the  best  I  can  do 
will  not  make  clear  without  some  helpful  effort  on  your  part. 

18.  The  streams,  we  say,  by  little  and  little,  are  filling  up 
the  lake.  They  did  not  cut  out  the  basin  of  that.  Something 
else  must  have  cut  out  that,  then,  before  the  streams  began 
their  work.  Could  the  lake,  then,  have  been  cut  out  all  by 
itself,  and  none  of  the  valleys  that  lead  to  it  ?  Was  it  punched 
into  the  mass  of  elevated  ground  like  a  long  grave,  before  the 
streams  were  set  to  work  to  cut  Yewdale  down  to  it? 

19.  You  don't  for  a  moment  imagine  that.  Well,  then,  the 
lake  and  the  dales  that  descend  with  it,  must  have  been  cut 
out  together.  But  if  the  lake  not  by  the  streamlets,  then  the 
dales  not  by  the  streamlets  ?  The  streamlets  are  the  conse- 
quence of  the  dales  then, — not  the  causes  ;  and  the  sub-aerial 
denudation  to  which  you  owe  your  beautiful  lake  scenery, 
must  have  been  something,  not  only  different  from  what  is 
going  on  now,  but,  in  one  half  of  it  at  least,  contrary  to  what 
is  going  on  now.  Then,  the  lakes  which  are  now  being  filled 
up,  were  being  cut  down  ;  and  as  probably,  the  mountains 
now  being  cut  down,  were  being  cast  up. 

20.  Don't  let  us  go  too  fast,  however.  The  streamlets  are 
now,  we  perceive,  filling  up  the  big  lake.  But  are  they  not, 
then,  also  filling  up  the  little  ones  ?  If  they  don't  cut  Conis- 
ton water  deeper,  do  you  think  they  are  cutting  Mr.  Marshall's 


136 


DEUCALION. 


tarns  deeper  ?  If  not  Mr.  Marshall's  tarns  deeper,  are  they 
cutting  their  own  little  pools  deeper  ?  This  pool  by  which  we 
are  standing — we  have  seen  it  is  inconceivable  how  it  is  not 
filled  up, — much  more  it  is  inconceivable  that  it  should  be 
cut  deeper  down.  You  can't  suppose  that  the  same  stream 
which  is  filling  up  the  Coniston  lake  below  Mr.  Browness's,  is 
cutting  out  another  Coniston  lake  above  Mr.  Browness's? 
The  truth  is  that,  above  the  bridge  as  below  it,  and  from  their 
sources  to  the  sea,  the  streamlets  have  the  same  function,  and 
are  filling,  not  deepening,  alike  lake,  tarn,  pool,  channel,  and 
valley. 

21.  And  that  being  so,  think  how  you  have  been  misled  by 
seeking  knowledge  far  afield,  and  for  vanity's  sake,  instead  of 
close  at  home,  and  for  love's  sake.  You  must  go  and  see 
Niagara,  must  you  ? — and  you  will  brick  up  and  make  a  foul 
drain  of  the  sweet  streamlet  that  ran  past  your  doors.  And 
all  the  knowledge  of  the  waters  and  the  earth  that  God  meant 
for  you,  flowed  with  it,  as  water  of  life. 

Understand,  then,  at  least,  and  at  last,  to-day,  Niagara  is  a 
vast  Exception — and  Deception.  The  true  cataracts  and  falls 
of  the  great  mountains,  as  the  dear  little  cascades  and  leaplets 
of  your  own  rills,  fall  where  they  fell  of  old  ; — that  is  to  say, 
wherever  there's  a  hard  bed  of  rock  for  them  to  jump  over. 
They  don't  cut  it  away — and  they  can't.  They  do  form  pools 
beneath  in  a  mystic  way,— they  excavate  them  to  the  depth 
which  will  break  their  fall's  force— and  then  they  excavate  no 
more.* 

We  must  look,  then,  for  some  other  chisel  than  the  stream- 
let ;  and  therefore,  as  we  have  hitherto  interrogated  the  waters 
at  their  work,  we  will  now  interrogate  the  hills,  in  their 
patience. 

22.  The  principal  flank  of  Yewdale  is  formed  by  a  steep 
range  of  crag,  thrown  out  from  the  greater  mass  of  Wether- 
lam,  and  known  as  Yewdale  Crag. 

It  is  almost  entirely  composed  of  basalt,  or  hard  volcanic 
ash  ;  and  is  of  supreme  interest  among  the  southern  hills  of 

*  Else,  every  pool  would  become  a  well,  of  continually  increasing 
depth. 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


137 


the  lake  district,  as  being  practically  the  first  rise  of  the  great 
mountains  of  England,  out  of  the  lowlands  of  England. 

And  it  chances  that  my  own  study  window  being  just  op- 
posite this  crag,  and  not  more  than  a  mile  from  it  as  the  bird 
flies,  I  have  it  always  staring  me,  as  it  were,  in  the  face,  and 
asking  again  and  again,  when  I  look  up  from  writing  any  of 
my  books, — "  How  did  /  come  here  ?  " 

I  wrote  that  last  sentence  hurriedly,  but  leave  it — as  it  was 
written  ;  for,  indeed,  however  well  I  know  the  vanity  of  it,  the 
question  is  still  sometimes,  in  spite  of  my  best  effort,  put  to 
me  in  that  old  form  by  the  mocking  crags,  as  by  a  vast 
couchant  Sphinx,  tempting  me  to  vain  labour  in  the  inscruta- 
ble abyss. 

But  as  I  regain  my  collected  thought,  the  mocking  question 
ceases,  and  the  divine  one  forms  itself,  in  the  voice  of  vale 
and  streamlet,  and  in  the  shadowy  lettering  of  the  engraven 
rock. 

"  Where  wast  thou  when  I  laid  the  foundation  of  the  earth? 
— declare,  if  thou  hast  understanding." 

23.  How  Yewdale  Crags  came  there,  I,  for  one,  will  no 
more  dream,  therefore,  of  knowing,  than  the  wild  grass  can 
know,  that  shelters  in  their  clefts.  I  will  only  to-night  ask 
you  to  consider  one  more  mystery  in  the  things  they  have 
suffered  since  they  came. 

You  might  naturally  think,  following  out  the  idea  of  1  sub- 
aerial  denudation  9  that  the  sudden  and  steep  rise  of  the  crag- 
above  these  softer  strata  was  the  natural  consequence  of  its 
greater  hardness  ;  and  that  in  general  the  district  was  only 
the  remains  of  a  hard  knot  or  kernel  in  the  substance  of  the 
island,  from  which  the  softer  superincumbent  or  surrounding 
material  had  been  more  or  less  rubbed  or  washed  away.* 

24.  But  had  that  been  so,  one  result  of  the  process  must 
have  been  certain — that  the  hard  rocks  would  have  resisted 

*  The  most  wonderful  piece  of  weathering,  in  all  my  own  district,  is 
on  &  projecting  mass  of  intensely  hard  rock  on  the  eastern  side  of  Goat's 
Water.  It  was  discovered  and  shown  to  me  by  my  friend  the  Rev.  F.  A. 
Malleson  ;  and  exactly  resembles  deer>  ripple-marking,  though  noth- 
ing in  the  grain  of  the  rock  indicates  its  undulatory  structure, 


138 


DEUCALION. 


more  than  the  soft ;  and  that  in  some  distinct  proportion  and 
connection,  the  hardness  of  a  mountain  would  be  conjecture 
able  from  its  height,  and  the  whole  surface  of  the  district 
more  or  less  manifestly  composed  of  hard  bosses  or  ridges, 
with  depressions  between  them  in  softer  materials.  Nothing 
is  so  common,  nothing  so  clear,  as  this  condition,  on  a  small 
scale,  in  every "  weathered  rock.  Its  quartz,  or  other  hard 
knots  and  veins,  stand  out  from  the  depressed  surface  in 
raised  wTalls,  like  the  divisions  between  the  pits  of  Dante's 
eighth  circle, — and  to  a  certain  extent,  Mr.  Ward  tells  us,  the 
lava  dykes,  either  by  their  hardness  or  by  their  decomposition, 
produce  walls  and  trenches  in  the  existing  surface  of  the 
hills.  But  these  are  on  so  small  a  scale,  that  on  this  map 
they  cannot  be  discernibly  indicated  ;  and  the  quite  amazing 
fact  stands  out  here  in  unqualified  and  indisputable  decision, 
that  by  whatever  force  these  forms  of  your  mountains  were 
hewn,  it  cut  through  the  substance  of  them,  as  a  sword-stroke 
through  flesh,  bone,  and  marrow,  and  swept  away  the  masses 
to  be  removed,  with  as  serene  and  indiscriminating  power  as 
one  of  the  shot  from  the  Devil's  great  guns  at  Shoeburyness 
goes  through  the  oak  and  the  iron  of  its  target. 

25.  It  is  with  renewed  astonishment,  whenever  I  take  these 
sections  into  my  hand,  that  I  observe  the  phenomenon  itself; 
and  that  I  remember  the  persistent  silence  of  geological 
teachers  on  this  matter,  through  the  last  forty  years  of  their 
various  discourse.  In  this  shortened  section,  through  Bow- 
fell  to  Brantwood,  you  go  through  the  summits  of  three  first- 
rate  mountains  down  to  the  lowland  moors :  you  find  them 
built,  or  heaped  ;  barred,  or  bedded  ;  here  with  forged  basalt, 
harder  than  flint,  and  tougher  than  iron, — there,  with  shiver- 
ing shales  that  split  themselves  into  flakes  as  fine  as  puft- 
paste,  and  as  brittle  as  shortbread.  And  behold,  the  hewing 
tool  of  the  Master  Builder  sweeps  along  the  forming  lines, 
and  shapes  the  indented  masses  of  them,  as  a  draper's  scis- 
sors shred  a  piece  of  striped  sarsnet ! 

26.  Now  do  but  think  a  little  of  the  wonderfulness  in  this. 
If  the  process  of  grinding  was  slow,  why  don't  the  hard  rocks 
project  ?  If  swift,  what  kind  of  force  must  it  have  been  ?  and 


Fig.l.    Slates  of  Bull  Cra£  and  Maiden  Moox.  (GEOL^  SURVEY.) 


Fig. 3.  Pie-Pa,ste.    Compression  modified  l)y  elevatory  forces. 


Fi£.  4.  Pie  Paste.    Compression,  restricted  to  tine   lower  Strata 

under  a  ri^id  upper  one. 
Plate   VI.  * 

LATERAL  COMPRESSION>OF  STRATA 

Fig.l.  Ideal.  Figs  2.3  &  4-  Practical. 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


139 


Why  do  the  rocks  it  tore  show  no  signs  of  rending  ?  Nobody 
supposes  it  was  indeed  swift  as  a  sword  or  a  cannon-ball ; 
but  if  not,  why  are  the  rocks  not  broken  ?  Can  you  break  an 
oak  plank  and  leave  no  splinters,  or  cut  a  bed  of  basalt  a 
a  thousand  feet  thick  like  cream-cheese  ? 

But  you  suppose  the  rocks  were  soft  when  it  was  done. 
Why  don't  they  squeeze,  then  ? 

Make  Dover  cliffs  of  baker's  dough,  and  put  St.  Paul's  on 
the  top  of  them, — won't  they  give  way  somewhat,  think  you  ? 
and  will  you  then  make  Causey  Pike  of  clay,  and  heave  Scaw- 
fell  against  the  side  of  it ;  and  yet  shall  it  not  so  much  as 
show  a  bruise  ? 

Yet  your  modern  geologists  placidly  draw  the  folded  beds 
of  the  Skiddaw  and  Causey  Pike  slate,  first,  without  observ- 
ing whether  the  folds  they  draw  are  possible  folds  in  anything ; 
and,  secondly,  without  the  slightest  suggestion  of  sustained 
pressure,  or  bruise,  in  any  part  of  them. 

27.  I  have  given  in  my  diagram,  (Plate  VI,  Fig.  1,)  the 
section  attributed,  in  that  last  issued  by  the  Geological  Sur- 
vey, to  the  contorted  slates  of  Maiden  Moor,  between  Causey 
Pike  and  the  erupted  masses  of  the  central  mountains.  Now, 
for  aught  I  know,  those  contortions  may  be  truly  represented  ; 
—but  if  so,  they  are  not  contortions  by  lateral  pressure. 
For,  first,  they  are  impossible  forms  in  any  substance  what- 
ever, capable  of  being  contorted  ;  and,  secondly,  they  are 
doubly  impossible  in  any  substance  capable  of  being  squeezed. 

Impossible,  I  say,  first  in  any  substance  capable  of  being 
contorted.  Fold  paper,  cloth,  leather,  sheets  of  iron, — what 
you  will,  and  still  you  can't  have  the  folded  bed  at  the  top 
double  the  length  of  that  at  the  bottom.  But  here,  I  have  meas- 
ured the  length  of  the  upper  bed,  as  compared  with  that  of 
the  lower,  and  it  is  twenty  miles,  to  eight  miles  and  a  half. 

Secondly,  I  say,  these  are  impossible  folds  in  any  substance 
capable  of  being  squeezed,  for  every  such  substance  will 
change  its  form  as  well  as  its  direction  under  pressure.  And 
to  show  you  how  such  a  substance  does  actually  behave,  and 
contort  itself  under  lateral  pressure,  I  have  prepared  the  sec- 
tions Figures  2,  3,  and  4. 


DEUCALION. 


28.  I  have  just  said,  you  have  no  business  to  seek  knowl- 
edge far  afield,  when  you  can  get  it  at  your  doors.  But  more 
than  that,  you  have  no  business  to  go  outside  your  doors 
for  it,  when  you  can  get  it  in  your  parlour.  And  it  so  hap- 
pens that  the  two  substances  which,  while  the  foolish  little 
king  was  counting  out  his  money,  the  wise  little  queen  was 
eating  in  the  parlour,  are  precisely  the  two  substances  be- 
side which  wise  little  queens  and  kings,  and  everybody  else, 
may  also  think,  in  the  parlour, — Bread,  and  honey.  For 
whatever  bread,  or  at  least  dough,  will  do  under  pressure, 
ductile  rocks,  in  their  proportion,  must  also  do  under  pres- 
sure ;  and  in  the  manner  that  honey  will  move,  poured  upon 
a  slice  of  them, — in  that  manner,  though  in  its  own  measure, 
ice  will  move,  poured  upon  a  bed  of  them.  Eocks,  no  more 
than  piecrust,  can  be  rolled  out  without  squeezing  them 
thinner  ;  and  flowing  ice  can  no  more  excavate  a  valley,  than 
flowing  treacle  a  teaspoon. 

29.  I  said  just  now,  Will  you  dash  Scawfell  against  Causey 
Pike? 

I  take,  therefore,  from  the  Geological  Survey  the  section  of 
the  Skiddaw  slates,  which  continue  the  mass  of  Causey  Pike 
under  the  Vale  of  Newlands,  to  the  point  where  the  volcanic 
mass  of  the  Scawfell  range  thrusts  itself  up  against  them,  and 
laps  over  them.  They  are  represented,  in  the  section,  as  you 
see,  (Plate  VI.,  Fig.  1 ;)  and  it  has  always  been  calmly  as- 
sumed by  geologists  that  these  contortions  were  owing  to 
lateral  pressure. 

But  I  must  beg  you  to  observe  that  since  the  uppermost  of 
these  beds,  if  it  were  straightened  out,  would  be  more  than 
twice  the  length  of  the  lower  ones,  you  could  only  obtain  that 
elongation  by  squeezing  the  upper  bed  more  than  the  lower, 
und  making  it  narrower  where  it  is  elongated.  Now,  if  this 
were  indeed  at  the  surface  of  the  ground,  the  geologists  might 
i>ay  the  upper  bed  had  been  thrown  up  because  there  was  less 
weight  on  it.  But,  by  their  own  accounts,  there  were  five 
miles  thick  of  rocks  on  the  top  of  all  this  when  it  was  bent. 
So  you  could  not  have  made  one  bed  tilt  up,  and  another  stay 
down  ;  and  the  structure  is  evidently  an  impossible  one. 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


141 


30.  Nay,  answer  the  surveyors,  impossible  or  not,  it  is  there, 
t  partly,  in  pausing,  myself  doubt  its  being  there.  This  looks 
to  me  an  ideal,  as  well  as  an  impossible,  undulation. 

But  if  it  is  indeed  truly  surveyed,  then  assuredly,  whatever 
it  may  be  owing  to,  it  is  not  owing  to  lateral  pressure. 

That  is  to  say,  it  may  be  a  crystalline  arrangement  assumed 
under  pressure,  but  it  is  assuredly  not  a  form  assumed  by 
ductile  substance  under  mechanical  force.  Order  the  cook  to 
roll  out  half  a  dozen  strips  of  dough,  and  to  stain  three  of 
them  with  cochineal.  Put  red  and  white  alternately  one 
above  the  other.  Then  press  them  in  any  manner  you  like ; 
after  pressure,  a  wetted  carving  knife  will  give  you  quite  un- 
questionable sections,  and  you  see  the  results  of  three  such 
experiments  in  the  lower  figures  of  the  plate. 

31.  Figure  2  represents  the  simplest  possible  case.  Three 
white  and  three  red  dough-strips  were  taken,  a  red  one  upper- 
most, (for  the  pleasure  of  painting  it  afterwards) !  They  were 
left  free  at  the  top,  enclosed  at  the  sides,  and  then  reduced 
from  a  foot  to  six  inches  in  length,  by  pressure  from  the 
right.  The  result,  you  see,  is  that  the  lower  bed  rises  into 
sharpest  gables  ;  the  upper  ones  are  rounded  softly.  But  in 
the  geological  section  it  is  the  upper  bed  that  rises,  the  lower 
keeps  down  !  The  second  case  is  much  more  interesting. 
The  pastes  were  arranged  in  the  same  order,  but  bent  up  a 
little,  to  begin  with,  in  two  places,  before  applying  the  pres- 
sure. The  result  was,  to  my  own  great  surprise,  that  at  these 
points  of  previous  elevation,  the  lower  bed  first  became  quite 
straight  by  tension  as  it  rose,  and  then  broke  into  transverse 
faults. 

32.  The  third  case  is  the  most  interesting  of  all.  In  this 
case,  a  roof  of  slate  was  put  over  the  upper  bed,  allowing  it 
to  rise  to  some  extent  only,  and  the  pressure  was  applied  to 
the  two  lower  beds  only.*  The  upper  bed  of  course  exuded 
backwards,  giving  these  fiame-like  forms,  of  which  afterwards 

*  Here  I  had  to  give  the  left-hand  section,  as  it  came  more  neatly. 
The  wrinkled  mass  on  the  left  colored  brown  represents  the  pushing 
piece  of  wood,  at  the  height  to  which  it  was  applied. 


142 


DEVCALIOK 


I  got  quite  lovely  complications  by  repeated  pressures.  Thes$ 
I  must  reserve  for  future  illustration,  concluding  to-night,  if 
you  will  permit  me,  with  a  few  words  of  general  advice  to  the 
younger  members  of  this  society,  formed  as  it  has  been  to 
trace  for  itself  a  straight  path  through  the  fields  of  literature, 
and  over  the  rocks  of  science. 

33.  First. — Whenever  you  write  or  read  English,  write  it 
pure,  and  make  it  pure  if  ill  written,  by  avoiding  all  unnec- 
essary foreign,  especially  Greek,  forms  of  words  yourself,  and 
translating  them  when  used  by  others.  Above  all,  make  this 
a  practice  in  science.  Great  part  of  the  supposed  scientific 
knowledge  of  the  day  is  simply  bad  English,  and  vanishes  the 
moment  you  translate  it. 

There  is  a  farther  very  practical  reason  for  avoiding  all 
vulgar  Greek-English.  Greece  is  now  a  kingdom,  and  will  I 
hope  remain  one,  and  its  language  is  now  living.  The  ship- 
chandler,  within  six  doors  of  me  on  the  quay  at  Venice  had 
indeed  a  small  English  sign — calling  himself  Ship-Chandler  ; 
but  he  had  a  large  and  practically  more  serviceable,  Greek 
one,  calling  himself  a  "  TrpofjurjOtTTrjs  twv  ttXohdv."  Now  when 
the  Greeks  want  a  little  of  your  science,  as  in  very  few  years 
they  must,  if  this  absurd  practice  of  using  foreign  languages 
for  the  clarification  of  scientific  principle  still  holds,  what 
you,  in  compliment  to  Greece,  call  a  ( Dinotherium,'  Greece, 
in  compliment  to  you,  must  call  a  £  Nastybeastium,' — and  you 
know  that  interchange  of  compliments  can't  last  long. 

34.  II.  Observe  generally  that  all  knowledge,  little  or 
much,  is  dangerous,  in  which  your  progress  is  likely  to  be 
broken  short  by  any  strict  limit  set  to  the  powers  of  mortals : 
while  it  is  precisely  that  kind  of  knowledge  which  provokes 
vulgar  curiosity,  because  it  seems  so  far  away  ;  and  idle  am- 
bition, because  it  allows  any  quantity  of  speculation,  without 
proof.  And  the  fact  is  that  the  greater  quantity  of  the 
knowledge  which  modern  science  is  so  saucy  about,  is  only  an 
asses'  bridge,  which  the  asses  all  stop  at  the  top  of,  and 
which,  moreover,  they  can't  help  stopping  at  the  top  of  ;  for 
they  have  from  the  beginning  taken  the  wrong  road,  and  so 
come  to  a  broken  bridge — a  Ponte  Kotto  over  the  River  of 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


143 


Death,  by  which  the  Pontifex  Maximus  allows  them  to  pasa 
no  step  farther. 

35.  For  instance, — having  invented  telescopes  and  photog- 
raphy, you  are  all  stuck  up  on  your  hobby-horses,  because 
you  know  how  big  the  moon  is,  and  can  get  pictures  of  the 
volcanoes  in  it ! 

But  you  never  can  get  any  more  than  pictures  of  these, 
while  in  your  own  planet  there  are  a  thousand  volcanoes  which 
you  may  jump  into,  if  you  have  a  mind  to  ;  and  may  one 
day  perhaps  be  blown  sky  high  by,  whether  you  have  a  mind 
or  not.  The  last  time  the  great  volcano  in  Java  was  in  erup- 
tion, it  threw  out  a  stream  of  hot  water  as  big  as  Lancaster 
Bay,  and  boiled  twelve  thousand  people.  That's  what  I  call 
a  volcano  to  be  interested  about,  if  you  want  sensational 
science. 

36.  But  if  not,  and  you  can  be  content  in  the  wonder  and 
the  power  of  Nature,  without  her  terror, — here  is  a  little  bit 
of  a  volcano,  close  at  your  very  doors — Yewdale  Crag,  which  I 
think  will  be  quiet  for  our  time, — and  on  which  the  anagallis 
tenella,  and  the  golden  potentilla,  and  the  sundew,  grow 
together  among  the  dewy  moss  in  peace.  And  on  the  cellular 
surface  of  one  of  the  blocks  of  it,  you  may  find  more  beauty, 
and  learn  more  precious  things,  than  with  telescope  or  pho- 
tograph from  all  the  moons  in  the  milky  way,  though  every 
drop  of  it  were  another  solar  system. 

I  have  a  few  more  serious  words  to  say  to  the  fathers,  and 
mothers,  and  masters,  who  have  honored  me  with  their  pres- 
ence this  evening,  with  respect  to  the  influence  of  these  far- 
reaching  sciences  on  the  temper  of  children. 

37.  Those  parents  who  love  their  children  most  tenderly, 
cannot  but  sometimes  dwell  on  the  old  Christian  fancy,  that 
they  have  guardian  angels.  I  call  it  an  old  fancy,  in  defer- 
ence to  your  modern  enlightenment  in  religion  ;  but  I  assure 
you  nevertheless,  in  spite  of  all  that  illumination,  there  re- 
mains yet  some  dark  possibility  that  the  old  fancy  may  be 
true  :  and  that,  although  the  modern  apothecary  cannot  ex- 
hibit to  you  either  an  angel,  or  an  imp,  in  a  bottle,  the 
spiritual  Dowers  of  heaven  and  bell  are  no  less  now3  than 


144 


DEUCALION. 


heretofore,  contending  for  the  souls  of  your  children  ;  and 
contending  with  you — for  the  privilege  of  their  tutorship. 

88.  Forgive  me  if  I  use,  for  the  few  minutes  I  have  yet  to 
speak  to  you,  the  ancient  language, — metaphorical,  if  you 
will,  of  Luther  and  Fenelon,  of  Dante  and  Milton,  of  Goethe 
and  Shakspeare,  of  St.  John  and  St.  Paul,  rather  than  your 
modern  metaphysical  or  scientific  slang :  and  if  I  tell  you, 
what  in  the  issue  of  it  you  will  find  is  either  life-giving,  or 
deadly,  fact, — that  the  fiends  and  the  angels  contend  with  you 
daily  for  the  spirits  of  your  children  :  the  devil  using  to  you 
his  old,  his  hitherto  immortal,  bribes,  of  lust  and  pride  ;  and 
the  angels  pleading  with  you,  still,  that  they  may  be  allowed 
to  lead  your  babes  in  the  divine  life  of  the  pure  and  the 
lowly.  To  enrage  their  lusts,  and  chiefly  the  vilest  lust  of 
money,  the  devils  would  drag  them  to  the  classes  that  teach 
them  how  to  get  on  in  the  world  ;  and  for  the  better  pluming 
of  their  pride,  provoke  their  zeal  in  the  sciences  which  will 
assure  them  of  their  being  no  God  in  nature  but  the  gas  of 
their  own  graves. 

And  of  these  powers  you  may  discern  the  one  from  the 
other  by  a  vivid,  instant,  practical  test.  The  devils  always 
will  exhibit  to  you  what  is  loathsome,  ugly,  and,  above  all, 
dead  ;  and  the  angels,  what  is  pure,  beautiful,  and,  above  all, 
living. 

39.  Take  an  actual,  literal  instance.  Of  all  kiiown  quadru- 
peds, the  unhappiest  and  vilest,  yet  alive,  is  the  uloth,  having 
this  farther  strange  devilry  in  him,  that  what  activity  he  is 
capable  of,  is  in  storm,  and  in  the  night.  Well,  the  devil 
takes  up  this  creature,  and  makes  a  monster  of  it, — gives  it 
legs  as  big  as  hogsheads,  claws  stretched  like  the  roots  of  a 
tree,  shoulders  like  a  hump  of  crag,  and  a  skull  as  thick  as 
a  paving-stone.  From  this  nightmare  monster  he  takes  what 
poor  faculty  of  motion  the  creature,  though  wretched,  has 
in  its  minuter  size  ;  and  shows  you,  instead  of  the  clinging 
climber  that  scratched  and  scrambled  from  branch  to  branch 
among  the  rattling  trees  as  they  bowed  in  storm,  only  a  vast 
heap  of  stony  bones  and  staggering  clay,  that  drags  its  meat 
down  to  its  mouth  out  of  the  forest  ruin.    This  creature  the 


YE  WD  ALE  AND  ITS  STREAMLETS. 


145 


fiends  delight  to  exhibit  to  you,  but  are  permitted  by  the 
nobler  powers  only  to  exhibit  to  you  in  its  death.* 

40.  On  the  other  hand,  as  of  all  quadrupeds  there  is  none 
so  ugly  or  so  miserable  as  the  sloth,  so,  take  him  for  all  in 
all,  there  is  none  so  beautiful,  so  happy,  so  wonderful  as  the 
squirrel.  Innocent  in  all  his  ways,  harmless  in  his  food,  play- 
ful as  a  kitten,  but  without  cruelty,  and  surpassing  the  fan- 
tastic dexterity  of  the  monkey,  with  the  grace  and  the  bright- 
ness of  a  bird,  the  little  dark-eyed  miracle  of  the  forest 

*  The  Mylodon.  An  old  sketch,  (I  think,  one  of  Leech's)  in  Punch, 
of  Paterfamilias  improving  Master  Tom  s  mind  among  the  models  on 
the  mud-bank  of  the  lowest  pond  at  Sydenham,  went  to  the  root  of  the 
matter.  For  the  effect,  on  Master  Tom's  mind  of  the  living  squirrel, 
compare  the  following  account  of  the  most  approved  modes  of  squirrel- 
hunting,  by  a  clerical  patron  of  the  sport,  extracted  for  me  by  a  cor- 
respondent, from  'Rabbits:  how  to  rear  and  manage  them;  with 
Chapters  on  Hares,  Squirrels,  etc.'    S.  O.  Beefcon,  248,  Strand,  W.  C. 

"  It  may  be  easily  imagined  that  a  creature  whose  playground  is  the 
top  twigs  of  tall  trees,  where  no  human  climber  dare  venture,  is  by  no 
means  easy  to  capture — especially  as  its  hearing  is  keen,  and  its  vision 
remarkably  acute.  Still,  among  boys  living  in  the  vicinity  of  large 
woods  and  copses,  squirrel-hunting  is  a  favorite  diversion,  and  none 
the  less  so  because  it  is  seldom  attended  by  success.  1  The  only  plan.* 
says  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wood,  '  is  to  watch  the  animal  until  it  has  ascended 
an  isolated  tree,  or,  by  a  well-directed  shower  missiles,  to  drive  it 
into  such  a  place  of  refuge,  and  then  to  form  a  ring  round  the  tree  so  as 
to  intercept  the  squirrel,  should  it  try  to  escape  by  leaping  to  the  ground 
and  running  to  another  tree.  The  best  climber  is  then  sent  in  chase  of 
the  squirrel,  and  endeavours,  by  violently  shaking  the  branches,  to  force 
the  little  animal  to  loose  its  hold  and  fall  to  the  earth.  But  it  is  by  no 
means  an  easy  matter  to  shake  a  squirrel  from  a  branch,  especially  as 
the  little  creature  takes  refuge  on  the  topmost  and  most  slender  boughs, 
which  even  bend  under  the  weight  of  its  own  small  body,  and  can  in 
no  way  be  trusted  with  the  weight  of  a  human  being.  By  dint,  how- 
ever, of  perseverance,  the  squirrel  is  at  last  dislodged,  and  comes  to  th<» 
ground  as  lightly  as  a  snow-flake.  Hats,  caps,  sticks,  and  all  available 
missiles  are  immediately  flung  at  the  luckless  animal  as  soon  as  it 
touches  the  ground,  and  it  is  very  probably  struck  and  overwhelmed 
by  a  cap.  The  successful  hurler  flings  himself  upon  the  cap,  and  tries 
to  seize  the  squirrel  as  it  lies  under  his  property.  All  his  companions 
gather  round  him,  and  great  is  the  disappointment  to  find  the  cap 
empty,  and  to  see  the  squirrel  triumphantly  scampering  up  some  tree 
where  ft  would  be  useless  to  follow  it.'  " 


146 


DEUCALION. 


glances  from  branch  to  branch  more  like  a  sunbeam  than  a 
living  creature  :  it  leaps,  and  darts,  and  twines,  where  it  will  ; 
— a  chamois  is  slow  to  it ;  and  a  panther,  clumsy  :  grotesque 
as  a  gnome,  gentle  as  a  fairy,  delicate  as  the  silken  plumes  of 
the  rush,  beautiful  and  strong  like  the  spiral  of  a  fern, — it 
haunts  you,  listens  for  you,  hides  from  you,  looks  for  you, 
loves  you,  as  if  the  angel  that  walks  with  your  children  had 
made  it  himself  for  their  heavenly  plaything. 

And  this  is  what  you  do,  to  thwart  alike  your  child's  angel, 
and  his  God, — you  take  him  out  of  the  woods  into  the  town, 
— you  send  him  from  modest  labour  to  competitive  schooling, 
— you  force  him  out  of  the  fresh  air  into  the  dusty  bone- 
house, — you  show  him  the  skeleton  of  the  dead  monster,  and 
make  him  pore  over  its  rotten  cells  and  wire-stitched  joints, 
and  vile  extinct  capacities  of  destruction, — and  when  he  is 
choked  and  sickened  with  useless  horror  and  putrid  air,  you 
let  him — regretting  the  waste  of  time — go  out  for  once  to 
play  again  by  the  woodside  ; — and  the  first  squirrel  he  sees, 
he  throws  a  stone  at  ! 

Carry,  then,  I  beseech  you,  this  assured  truth  away  with 
you  to-night.  All  true  science  begins  in  the  love,  not  the  dis- 
section, of  your  fellow-creatures  ;  and  it  ends  in  the  love,  not 
the  analysis,  of  God.  Your  alphabet  of  science  is  in  the 
nearest  knowledge,  as  your  alphabet  of  science  is  in  the  near- 
est duty.  "  Behold,  it  is  nigh  thee,  even  at  the  doors."  The 
Spirit  of  God  is  around  you  in  the  air  that  you  breathe, — His 
glory  in  the  light  that  you  see  ;  and  in  the  fruitfulness  of  the 
earth,  and  the  joy  of  its  creatures,  He  has  written  for  you,  day 
by  day,  His  revelation,  as  He  has  granted  you,  day  by  day, 
your  daily  bread. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

OF    STELLAR  SILICA. 

1.  The  issue  of  this  number  of  Deucalion  has  been  so  long 
delayed,  first  by  other  work,  and  recently  by  my  illness,  that 
1  think  it  best  at  once  to  begin  Mr.  Ward's  notes  on  Plate  V. ; 


OF  STELLAR  SILICA. 


147 


reserving  their  close,  with  full  explanation  of  their  importance 
and  bearing,  to  the  next  following  number. 

Greta  Bank  Cottage,  Keswick, 
June  13,  1876. 

My  dear  Sir,  — I  send  you  a  few  notes  on  the  microscopic 
structure  of  the  three  specimens  I  have  had  cut.  In  them  I 
have  stated  merely  what  I  have  seen.  There  has  been  much 
which  I  did  not  expect,  and  still  more  is  there  that  I  don't 
understand. 

I  am  particularly  sorry  I  have  not  the  time  to  send  a  whole 
series  of  coloured  drawings  illustrating  the  various  points  ; 
but  this  summer  weather  claims  my  time  on  the  mountain- 
side, and  I  must  give  up  microscopic  work  until  winter  comes 
round  again. 

The  minute  spherulitic  structure — especially  along  the  fine 
brown  lines — was  quite  a  surprise,  and  I  shall  hope  on  some 
future  occasion  to  see  more  of  this  subject.  Believe  me,  yours 
very  truly, 

J.  Clifton  Ward. 

P.S. — There  seems  to  be  a  great  difference  between  the 
microscopic  structure  of  the  specimens  now  examined  and 
that  of  the  filled-up  vesicles  in  many  of  my  old  lavas  here,  so 
far  as  my  limited  examination  has  gone. 

specimen  a. 

No.  1  commences  at  the  end  of  the  section  farthest  from  A  in 

specimen. 

1.  Transparent  zone  with  irregular  curious  cavities  (not 
liquid),  and  a  few  mossy-looking  round  spots  (brownish). 

Polarization.  Indicating  an  indefinite  semi-crystalline  struct- 
ure.   (See  note  at  page  148.) 

2.  Zone  with  minute  seed -like  bodies  of  various  sizes  (nar- 
row brownish  bands  in  the  specimen  of  darker  and  lighter 
tints). 

a.  Many  cavities,  and  of  an  indefinite  oval  form  in  general. 

b.  The  large  spherulites  (2)  are  very  beautiful,  the  outer 


148 


DEUCALION. 


zone  (radiate)  of  a  delicate  greenish-yellow,  the  nucleus  of  $ 
brownish-yellow,  and  the  intermediate  zone  generally  clear. 

c.  A  layer  of  densely  packed  bodies,  oblong  or  oval  in  form. 

d.  Spherulites  generally  similar  to  b,  but  smaller,  much 
more  stained  of  a  brownish-yellow,  and  with  more  defined 
nuclei. 

Polarization.  The  spherulites  show  a  clearly  radiate  polari- 
zation, with  rotation  of  a  dark  cross  on  turning  either  of  the 
prisms ;  the  intermediate  ground  shows  the  irregular  semi- 
crystalline  structure. 

3.  Clear  zone,  with  little  yellowish,  dark,  squarish  specks. 
Polarization.    Irregular,  semi-crystalline. 

4.  Row  of  closely  touching  spherulites  with  large  nucleus 
and  defined  margin,  rather  furry  in  character  (3).  Margins 
and  nuclei  brown  ;  intermediate  space  brownish-yellow. 

Polarization.    Eadiate,  as  in  the  spherulites  2  b. 
(This  is  a  short  brown  band  which  does  not  extend  down 
through  the  whole  thickness  of  the  specimen.) 

5.  Generally  clear  ground,  with  a  brownish  cloudy  appear- 
ance in  parts. 

Polarization,    Indefinite  semi-crystalline. 
6  a.  On  a  hazy  ground  may  be  seen  the  cloudy  margins  of 
separately  crystalline  spaces. 

Polarization.    Definite  semi-crystalline.** 

6  b.  A  clear  band  with  very  indefinite  polarization. 

7.  A  clearish  zone  with  somewhat  of  a  brown  mottled  ap- 
pearance (light  clouds  of  brown  colouring  matter). 

Polarization.    Indefinite  semi-crystalline. 

8.  Zone  of  brownish  bodies  (this  is  a  fine  brown  line,  about 
the  middle  of  the  section  in  the  specimen). 

*  By  1  indefinite  semi-crystalline '  is  meant  the  breaking  up  of  the 
ground  under  crossed  prisms  with  sheaves  (5)  of  various  colours  not 
clearly  margined. 

By  '  definite  semi-crystalline '  is  meant  the  breaking  up  &f  the  ground 
under  crossed  prisms  with  a  mosaic  (4)  of  various  colours  clearly  mar- 
gined. 

By  '  semi-crystalline  '  is  meant  the  interference  of  crystalline  spaces 
with  one  another,  so  as  to  prevent  a  perfect  crystalline  form  being 
assumed. 


OF  STELLAR  SILICA.  149 

a.  Yellowish-brown  nucleated  disks. 

b.  Smaller,  scattered,  and  generally  non-nucleated  disks. 

c.  Generally  non-nucleated. 

Polarization.  The  disks  are  too  minute  to  show  separate 
polarization  effects,  but  the  ground  exhibits  the  indefinite 
semi-crystalline. 

9.  Ground  showing  indefinite  semi-crystalline  polarization. 

10.  Irregular  line  of  furry-looking  yellowish  disks. 

11.  Zone  traversed  by  a  series  of  generally  parallel  and 
faint  lines  of  a  brownish-yellow.  These  are  apparently  lines 
produced  by  colouring  matter  alone, — at  any  rate,  not  by 
visible  disks  of  any  kind. 

Polarization.  Tolerably  definite,  and  limited  by  the  cross 
lines  (6). 

12.  Dark-brown  flocculent-looking  matter,  as  if  growing 
out  from  a  well-defined  line,  looking  like  a  moss-growth. 

13.  Defined  crystalline  interlocked  spaces. 
Polarization.    Definite  semi-crystalline. 

14.  Generally,  not  clearly  defined  spaces ;  central  part 
rather  a  granular  look  (spaces  very  small). 

Polarization.  Under  crossed  prisms  breaking  up  into  toler- 
ably definite  semi-crystalline  spaces. 

SPECIMEN  B. 

B  1.  In  the  slice  taken  from  this  side  there  seems  to  be 
frequently  a  great  tendency  to  spherulitic  arrangement,  as 
shown  by  the  polarization  phenomena.  In  parts  of  the  white 
quartz  where  the  polarization  appearance  is  like  that  of  a 
mosaic  pavement,  there  is  even  a  semi-spherulitic  structure. 
In  other  parts  there  are  many  spherulites  on  white  and  yel- 
lowish ground. 

Between  the  many  parallel  lines  of  a  yellowish  colour  the 
polarization  (7)  effect  is  that  of  fibrous  coloured  sheaves. 

Here  (8)  there  is  a  central  clear  band  (b)  ;  between  it  and  (a) 
a  fine  granular  line  with  some  larger  granules  (or  very  minute 
spherulites).  The  part  (a)  is  carious,  apparently  with  g}f$s 
cavities.  On  the  other  side  of  the  clear  band,  at  c,  are  half- 
formed  and  adherent  spherulites ;  the  central  (shaded)  parts 


150 


DEUCALION. 


are  yellow,  and  the  outer  coat,  the  intermediate  portion 

clearish. 

B  2.  The  slice  from  this  end  of  the  specimen  shows  the 
same  general  structure. 

The  general  tendency  to  spherulitic  arrangement  is  well 
seen  in  polarized  light,  dark  crosses  frequently  traversing 
the  curved  structures. 

Here  (in  Fig.  9)  the  portion  represented  on  the  left  was 
situated  close  to  the  other  portion,  where  the  point  of  the 
arrow  terminates,  both  crosses  appearing  together  and  revolv- 
ing in  rotation  of  one  of  the  prisms. 

specimen  c. 

The  slice  from  this  specimen  presents  far  less  variety  than 
in  the  other  cases.  There  are  two  sets  of  structural  lines — 
those  radiate  (10),  and  those  curved  and  circumferential  (11). 
The  latter  structure  is  exceedingly  fine  and  delicate,  and  not 
readily  seen,  even  with  a  high  power,  owing  to  the  fine  radii 
not  being  marked  out  by  any  colour,  the  whole  section  being 
very  clear  and  white. 

A  more  decidedly  nucleated  structure  is  seen  in  part  12. 

In  (13)  is  a  very  curious  example  of  a  somewhat  more  glassy 
portion  protruding  in  finger-like  masses  into  a  radiate,  clear, 
and  largely  spherical  portion. 

2.  These  notes  of  Mr.  Clifton  Ward's  contain  the  first  ac- 
curate statements  yet  laid  before  mineralogists  respecting  the 
stellar  crystallization  of  silica,  although  that  mode  of  ita 
formation  lies  at  the  very  root  of  the  structure  of  the  greater 
mass  of  amygdaloidal  rocks,  and  of  all  the  most  beautiful 
phenomena  of  agates.  And  indeed  I  have  no  words  to  express 
the  wonder  with  which  I  see  work  like  that  done  by  Cloize- 
aux  in  the  measurement  of  quartz  angles,  conclude  only  in 
the  construction  of  the  marvellous  diagram,  as  subtle  in  exe- 
cution as  amazing  in  its  accumulated  facts,*  without  the  least 
reference  to  the  conditions  of  varying  energy  which  produce 
the  spherical  masses  of  chalcedony  !  He  does  not  even  use  the 
classic  name  of  the  mineral,  but  coins  the  useless  one,  Gey- 
*  Facing  page  8  of  the  'Manuel  de  Mineralogie. ' 


OF  STELLAR  SILICA. 


151 


serite,  for  the  absolutely  local  condition  of  the  Iceland 
sinter. 

3.  And  although,  in  that  formation,  he  went  so  near  the 
edge  of  Mr.  Clifton  Ward's  discovery  as  to  announce  that 
"  leur  masse  se  compose  ellememe  de  spheres  enchassees  dans 
une  sorte  de  pate  gelatin euse,"  he  not  only  fails,  on  this  sug- 
gestion, to  examine  chalcedonic  structure  generally,  but  ar- 
rested himself  finally  in  the  pursuit  of  his  inquiry  by  quietly 
asserting,  "ce  genre  de  structure  n'a  jamais  ete  recontre  jus- 
qu'ici  sur  aucune  autre  variete  de  silice  naturelle  ou  artifici- 
elle," — the  fact  being  that  there  is  no  chalcedonic  mass 
whatever,  which  does  not  consist  of  spherical  concretions  more 
or  less  perfect,  enclosed  in  a  "  pate  gelatineuse." 

4.  In  Professor  Miller's  manual,  which  was  the  basis  of 
Cloizeaux's,  chalcedony  is  stated  to  appear  to  be  a  mixture  of 
amorphous  with  crystalline  silica  !  and  its  form  taken  no  ac- 
count of.  Malachite  might  just  as  well  have  been  described  as 
a  mixture  of  amorphous  with  crystalline  carbonate  of  copper  ! 

5.  I  will  not,  however,  attempt  to  proceed  farther  in  this 
difficult  subject  until  Mr.  Clifton  Ward  has  time  to  continue 
his  own  observations.  Perhaps  I  may  persuade  him  to  let 
me  have  a  connected  series  of  figured  examples,  from  pure 
stellar  quartz  down  to  entirely  fluent  chalcedony,  to  begin 
the  next  volume  of  Deucalion  with  ; — but  I  must  endeav- 
our, in  closing  the  present  one,  to  give  some  available  sum- 
mary of  its  contents,  and  clearer  idea  of  its  purpose  ;  and 
will  only  trespass  so  far  on  my  friend's  province  as  to  lay 
before  him,  together  with  my  readers,  some  points  noted 
lately  on  another  kind  of  semi-crystallization,  which  bear 
not  merely  on  the  domes  of  delicate  chalcedony,  and  pyramids 
of  microscopic  quartz,  but  on  the  far-seen  chalcedony  of  the 
Dome  du  Goute,  and  the  prismatic  towers  of  the  Cervin  and 
dark  peak  of  Aar. 


152 


DEUCALION. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

SCHISMA    MONTI UM. 

1.  The  index  closing  this  volume  of  Deucalion,  drawn  up 
by  myself,  is  made  as  short  as  possible,  and  classifies  the  con- 
tents of  the  volume  so  as  to  enable  the  reader  to  collect  all 
notices  of  importance  relating  to  any  one  subject,  and  to  col- 
late them  with  those  in  my  former  writings.  That  they  need 
such  assemblage  from  their  desultory  occurrence  in  the  previ- 
ous pages,  is  matter  of  sincere  regret  to  me,  but  inevitable, 
since  the  writing  of  a  systematic  treatise  was  incompatible 
with  the  more  serious  work  I  had  in  hand,  on  greater  subjects. 
The  f  Laws  of  Fesole '  alone  might  well  occupy  all  the  hours  I 
can  now  permit  myself  in  severe  thought.  But  any  student 
of  intelligence  may  perceive  that  one  inherent  cause  of  the 
divided  character  of  this  book,  is  its  function  of  advance  in 
parallel  columns  over  a  wide  field  ;  seeing  that,  on  no  fewer 
than  four  subjects,  respecting  which  geological  theories  and 
assertions  have  long  been  alike  fantastic  and  daring,  it  has 
shown  at  least  the  necessity  for  revisal  of  evidence,  and,  in 
two  cases,  for  reversal  of  judgment. 

2.  I  say  "  it  has  shown,"  fearlessly  ;  for  at  my  time  of  life, 
every  man  of  ordinary  sense,  and  probity,  knows  what  he  has 
done  securely,  and  what  perishabl}r.  And  during  the  last 
twenty  years,  none  of  my  words  have  been  set  down  untried  ; 
nor  has  any  opponent  succeeded  in  overthrowing  a  single  sen- 
tence of  them. 

3.  But  respecting  the  four  subjects  above  alluded  to.  (denu- 
dation, cleavage,  crystallization,  and  elevation,  as  causes  of 
mountain  form,)  proofs  of  the  uncertainty,  or  even  falseness,  of 
current  conceptions  have  been  scattered  at  intervals  through 
my  writings,  early  and  late,  from  '  Modern  Painters '  to  the 
'  Ethics  of  the  Dust : '  and,  with  gradually  increasing  wonder  at 
the  fury  of  so-called  '  scientific '  speculation,  I  have  insisted, 
year  by  year,  on  the  undeait  with,  and  usually  undreamt  of, 


8CII1SMA  MONTIUM. 


153 


difficulties  which  lay  at  the  threshold  of  secure  knowledge  in 
such  matters  ; — trusting  always  that  some  ingenuous  young 
reader  would  take  up  the  work  I  had  no  proper  time  for,  and 
follow  out  the  investigations  of  which  the  necessity  had  been 
indicated.  But  I  waited  in  vain  ;  and  the  rough  experiments 
made  at  last  by  myself,  a  year  ago,  of  which  the  results  are 
represented  in  Plate  VI.  of  this  volume,  are  actually  the  first 
of  which  there  is  record  in  the  annals  of  geology,  made  to  as- 
certain the  primary  physical  conditions  regulating  the  forms  of 
contorted  strata.  The  leisure  granted  me,  unhappily,  by  the 
illness  which  has  closed  my  relations  with  the  University  of 
Oxford,  has  permitted  the  pursuit  of  these  experiments  a  little 
farther  ;  but  I  must  defer  account  of  their  results  to  the  fol- 
lowing volume,  contenting  myself  with  indicating,  for  conclu- 
sion of  the  present  one,  to  what  points  of  doubt  in  existing 
theories  they  have  been  chiefly  directed. 

4.  From  the  examination  of  all  mountain  ground  hitherto 
well  gone  over,  one  general  conclusion  has  been  derived,  that 
wherever  there  are  high  mountains,  there  are  hard  rocks. 
Earth,  at  its  strongest,  has  difficulty  in  sustaining  itself  above 
the  clouds  ;  and  could  not  hold  itself  in  any  noble  height,  if 
knitted  infirmly. 

5.  And  it  has  farther  followed,  in  evidence,  that  on  the 
flanks  of  these  harder  rocks,  there  are  yielding  beds,  which 
appear  to  have  been,  in  some  places,  compressed  by  them  into 
wrinkles  and  undulations  ; — in  others,  shattered,  and  thrown 
up  or  down  to  different  levels.  My  own  interest  was  excited, 
very  early  in  life,*  by  the  forms  and  fractures  in  the  mountain 
groups  of  Savoy  ;  and  it  happens  that  the  undulatory  action 
of  the  limestone  beds  on  each  shore  of  the  Lake  of  Annecy, 

*  I  well  yet  remember  my  father's  rushing  up  to  the  drawing-room  at 
Heme  Hill,  with  wet  and  flashing  eyes,  with  the  proof  in  his  hand  of 
the  first  sentences  of  his  son's  writing  ever  set  in  type,  —  *  Enquiries  on 
the  Causes  of  the  Colour  of  the  Water  of  the  Rhone,'  (Magazine  of  Natu- 
ral History,  September,  1834 ;  followed  next  month  by  '  Facts  and 
Considerations  on  the  Strata  of  Mont  Blanc,  and  on  some  Instances  of 
Twisted  Strata  observable  in  Switzerland.'  I  was  then  fifteen.)  M^ 
mother  and  I  eagerly  questioning  the  cause  of  his  excitement,  —  uIt's-~ 
it's — only  $Hkt"  said  he  !    Alas  !  how  much  the  ■  only  '  meant ! 


154 


DEUCALION. 


and  the  final  rupture  of  their  outmost  wave  into  the  precipice 
of  the  Saleve,  present  examples  so  clear,  and  so  imposing,  of 
each  condition  of  form,  that  I  have  been  led,  without  there- 
fore laying  claim  to  any  special  sagacity,  at  least  into  clearer 
power  of  putting  essential  questions  respecting  such  phenom- 
ena than  geologists  of  far  wider  experience,  who  have  confused 
or  amused  themselves  by  collecting  facts  indiscriminately  over 
vast  spaces  of  ground.  I  am  well  convinced  that  the  reader 
will  find  more  profit  in  following  my  restricted  steps  ;  and 
satisfying,  or  dissatisfying  himself,  with  precision,  respecting 
forms  of  mountains  which  he  can  repeatedly  and  exhaustively 
examine. 

6.  In  the  uppermost  figure  in  Plate  VII.,  I  have  enlarged 
and  coloured  the  general  section  given  rudely  above  in  Figure 
1,  page  12,  of  the  Jura  and  Alps,  with  the  intervening  plain. 
The  central  figure  is  the  southern,  and  the  lowermost  figure, 
which  should  be  conceived  as  joining  it  on  the  right  hand,  the 
northern,  series  of  the  rocks  composing  our  own  Lake  dis- 
trict, drawn  for  me  with  extreme  care  by  the  late  Professor 
Phillips,  of  Oxford. 

I  compare,  and  oppose,  these  two  sections,  for  the  sake  of 
fixing  in  the  reader's  mind  one  essential  point  of  difference 
among  many  resemblances  ;  but  that  they  may  not,  in  this 
comparison,  induce  any  false  impressions,  the  system  of  col- 
our which  I  adopt  in  this  plate,  and  henceforward  shall  ob- 
serve, must  be  accurately  understood. 

7.  At  pages  93-94  above,  I  gave  my  reasons  for  making  no 
endeavour,  at  the  Sheffield  Museum,  to  certify  the  ages  of 
rocks.  For  the  same  reason,  in  practical  sections  I  concern 
myself  only  with  their  nature  and  position  ;  and  colour 
granite  pink,  slate  purple,  and  sandstone  red,  without  inquir- 
ing whether  the  granite  is  ancient  or  modern, — the  sand  triaa 
or  pliocene,  and  the  slate  Wenlock  or  Caradoc  ;  but  with  this 
much  only  of  necessary  concession  to  recognized  method,  as 
to  colour  with  the  same  tint  all  rocks  which  unquestionably 
belong  to  the  same  great  geological  formation,  and  vary  their 
mineralogical  characters  within  narrow  limits.  Thus,  since, 
in  characteristic  English  sections,  chalk  may  most  convert 


8CH18MA  MONTIUM. 


155 


iently  be  expressed  by  leaving  it  white,  and  some  of  the 
upper  beds  of  the  Alps  unquestionably  are  of  the  same  pe- 
riod, I  leave  them  white  also,  though  their  general  colour 
may  be  brown  or  grey,  so  long  as  they  retain  cretaceous  or 
marly  consistence  ;  but  if  they  become  metamorphic,  and 
change  into  clay  slate  or  gneiss,  I  colour  them  purple,  what- 
ever their  historical  relations  may  be. 

8.  ilnd  in  all  geological  maps  and  sections  given  in  'Deu- 
calion,' I  shall  limit  myself  to  the  definition  of  the  twelve  fol- 
lowing formations  by  the  twelve  following  colours.  It  is 
enough  for  any  young  student  at  first  to  learn  the  relations 
of  these  great  orders  of  rock  and  earth  : — once  master  of 
these,  in  any  locality,  he  may  split  his  beds  into  any  com- 
plexity of  finely  laminated  chronology  he  likes ;— and  if  I 
have  occasion  to  split  them  for  him  myself,  I  can  easily  ex- 
press their  minor  differences  by  methods  of  engraving.  But, 
primarily,  let  him  be  content  in  the  recognition  of  these 
twelve  territories  of  Demeter,  by  this  following  colour  her- 
aldry : — 


9. 


1.  Granite  will  bear  in  the  field, 

2.  Gneiss  and  mica-slate   — 

3.  Clay-slate   

4.  Mountain  limestone   

5.  Coal  measures  and 

millstone  grit   

6.  Jura  limestone   

7.  Chalk   

8.  Tertiaries  forming 

hard  rock   

9.  Tertiary  sands  and  clays  

10.  Eruptive  rocks,  not  de- 

finitely volcanic   

11.  Eruptive   rocks,  defi- 

nitely volcanic,  but  at 

rest   

12.  Volcanic  rocks,  active  


Rose-red. 
Rose-purple. 
Violet-purple, 
Blue. 

Grey. 

Yellow. 

White. 

Scarlet. 
Tawny. 

Green. 


Green,  spotted  red. 
Black,  spotted  red. 


10.  It  will  at  once  be  seen  by  readers  of  some  geological 
experience,  that  approximately,  and  to  the  degree  possible, 


150 


DEUCALION-. 


these  colours  are  really  characteristic  of  the  several  forma* 
tions  ;  and  they  may  be  rendered  more  so  by  a  little  care  in 
modifying  the  tints.  Thus  the  'scarlet'  used  for  the  tertia- 
ries  may  be  subdued  as  much  as  we  please,  to  what  will  be  as 
near  a  sober  brown  as  we  can  venture  without  confusing  it 
with  the  darker  shades  of  yellow  ;  and  it  may  be  used  more 
pare  to  represent  definitely  red  sandstones  or  conglomerates : 
while,  again,  the  old  red  sands  of  the  coal  measures  may  be 
extricated  from  the  general  grey  by  a  tint  of  vermilion  which 
will  associate  them,  as  mineral  substances,  with  more  recent 
sand.  Thus  in  the  midmost  section  of  Plate  VII.  this  colour 
is  used  for  the  old  red  conglomerates  of  Kirby  Lonsdale. 
And  again,  keeping  pure  light  blue  for  the  dated  mountain 
limestones,  which  are  indeed,  in  their  emergence  from  the 
crisp  turf  of  their  pastures,  grey,  or  even  blue  in  shade,  to 
the  eye,  a  deeper  blue  may  be  kept  for  the  dateless  limestones 
which  are  associated  with  the  metamorphic  beds  of  the  Alps  ; 
as  for  my  own  Coniston  Silurian  limestone,  which  may  be 
nearly  as  old  as  Skiddaw. 

11.  The  colour  called  c  tawny/  I  mean  to  be  as  nearly  that 
of  ripe  wheat  as  may  be,  indicating  arable  land,  or  hot  prai- 
rie ;  while,  in  maps  of  northern  countries,  touched  with 
points  of  green,  it  may  pass  for  moorland  and  pasture  :  or, 
kept  in  the  hue  of  pale  vermilion,  it  may  equally  well  repre- 
sent desert  alluvial  sand.  Finally,  the  avoidance  of  the  large 
masses  of  fierce  and  frightful  scarlet  which  render  modern 
geological  maps  intolerable  to  a  painter's  sight,  (besides  in- 
volving such  geographical  incongruities  as  the  showing  Ice- 
land in  the  colour  of  a  red-hot  coal ;)  and  the  substitution 
over  all  volcanic  districts,  of  the  colour  of  real  greenstone,  or 
serpentine,  for  one  which  resembles  neither  these,  nor  the 
general  tones  of  dark  colour  either  in  lava  or  cinders,  will 
certainly  render  all  geological  study  less  injurious  to  the  eye- 
sight, and  less  harmful  to  the  taste. 

12.  Of  the  two  sections  in  Plate  VII.,  the  upper  one  is  ar- 
ranged from  Stucler,  so  as  to  exhibit  in  one  view  the  principal 
phenomena  of  Alpine  structure  according  to  that  geologist. 
The  cleavages  in  the  central  granite  mass  are  given3  however 


SCHISM  A  MONTI  UM. 


157 


on  my  own  responsibility,  not  his.  The  lower  section  was, 
as  aforesaid,  drawn  for  me  by  my  kind  old  friend  Professor 
Phillips,  and  is,  I  doubt  not,  entirely  authoritative.  In  all 
great  respects,  the  sections  given  by  Studer  are  no  less  so  ; 
but  they  are  much  ruder  in  drawing,  and  can  be  received 
only  as  imperfect  summaries — perhaps,  in  their  abstraction, 
occasionally  involving  some  misrepresentation  of  the  complex 
facts.  For  my  present  purposes,  however,  they  give  me  all 
the  data  required. 

13.  It  will  instantly  be  seen,  on  comparing  the  two  groups 
of  rocks,  that  although  nearly  similar  in  succession,  and  both 
suggesting  the  eruptive  and  elevatory  force  of  the  granitic 
central  masses,  there  is  a  wdde  difference  in  the  manner  of  the 
action  of  these  on  the  strata  lifted  by  them.  In  the  Swiss 
section,  the  softer  rocks  seem  to  have  been  crushed  aside,  like 
the  ripples  of  water  round  any  submersed  object  rising  to  the 
surface.  In  the  English  section,  they  seem  to  have  undergone 
no  such  torsion,  but  to  be  lifted  straight,  as  they  lay,  like  the 
timbers  of  a  gabled  roof.  It  is  true  that,  on  the  larger  scale 
of  the  Geological  Survey,  contortions  are  shown  at  most  of 
the  faults  in  the  Skiddaw  slate  ;  but,  for  the  reasons  already 
stated,  I  believe  these  contortions  to  be  more  or  less  conven- 
tionally represented  ;  and  until  I  have  myself  examined  them, 
will  not  modify  Professor  Phillips1  drawing  by  their  intro- 
duction. 

Some  acknowledgment  of  such  a  structure  is  indeed  given 
by  him  observably  in  the  dark  slates  on  the  left  in  the  lower- 
most section  ;  but  he  has  written  under  these  undulatory  lines 
"  quartz  veins,"  and  certainly  means  them,  so  far  as  they  are 
structural,  to  stand  only  for  ordinary  gneissitic  contortion  in 
the  laminated  mass,  and  not  for  undulating  strata. 

14.  Farther.  No  authority  is  given  me  by  Studer  for 
dividing  the  undulatory  masses  of  the  outer  Alps  by  any  kind 
of  cleavage-lines.  Nor  do  I  myself  know  examples  of  fissile 
structure  in  any  of  these  mountain  masses,  unless  where  they 
are  affected  by  distinctly  metamorphic  action,  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  central  gneiss  or  mica-schist.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  entire  courses  of  the  Cumberland  rock,  from  Kirby 


158 


DEUCALION. 


Lonsdale  to  Carlisle,  are  represented  by  Professor  Phillips  as 
traversed  by  a  perfectly  definite  and  consistent  cleavage 
throughout,  dipping  steeply  south,  in  accurately  straight  par- 
allel lines,  and  modified  only,  in  the  eruptive  masses,  by  a 
vertical  cleavage,  characterizing  the  pure  granite  centres, 

15.  I  wish  the  reader  to  note  this  with  especial  care,  be- 
cause the  cleavage  of  secondary  rock  has  been  lately  attrib- 
uted, with  more  appearance  of  reason  than  modern  scientific 
theories  usually  possess,  to  lateral  pressure,  acting  in  a  direc- 
tion perpendicular  to  the  lamination.  It  seems,  however,  little 
calculated  to  strengthen  our  confidence  in  such  an  explanation, 
to  fiud  the  Swiss  rocks,  which  appear  to  have  been  subjected 
to  a  force  capable  of  doubling  up  leagues  of  them  backwards 
and  forwards  like  a  folded  map,  wholly  without  any  resultant 
schistose  structure  ;  and  the  English  rocks,  which  seem  only 
to  have  been  lifted  as  a  raft  is  raised  on  a  wave,  split  across, 
for  fifty  miles  in  succession,  by  foliate  structures  of  the  most 
perfect  smoothness  and  precision. 

16.  It  might  indeed  be  alleged,  in  deprecation  of  this  ob- 
jection, that  the  dough  or  batter  of  which  the  Alps  were  com- 
posed, mostly  calcareous,  did  not  lend  itself  kindly  to  lamina- 
tion, while  the  mud  and  volcanic  ashes  of  Cumberland  were 
of  a  slippery  and  unctuous  character,  easily  susceptible  of  re- 
arrangement under  pressure.  And  this  view  receives  strong 
support  from  the  dextrous  experiment  performed  by  Professor 
Tyndall  in  1856,  and  recorded,  as  conclusive,  in  1872,*  where- 
in, first  warming  some  wax,  then  pressing  it  between  two 
pieces  of  glass,  and  finally  freezing  it,  he  finds  the  congealed 
mass  delicately  laminated ;  and  attributes  its  lamination  to 
the  "  lateral  sliding  of  the  particles  over  each  other."  *  But 
with  his  usual,  and  quite  unrivalled,  incapacity  of  following 
out  any  subject  on  the  two  sides  of  it,  he  never  tells  us,  and 
never  seems  to  have  asked  himself,  how  far  the  wax  was  flat- 
tened, and  how  far,  therefore,  its  particles  had  been  forced  to 
slide  ; — nor,  during  the  sixteen  years  between  his  first  and 
final  record  of  the  experiment,  does  he  seem  ever  to  have  used 


*  «  Forms  of  Water,'  King  and  Co.,  1872,  p.  190. 


SCHISMA  MONTIUM. 


159 


any  means  of  ascertaining  whether,  under  the  observed  con- 
ditions, real  compression  of  the  substance  of  the  wax  had 
taken  place  at  all  !  For  if  not,  and  the  form  of  the  mass  was 
only  altered  from  a  lump  to  a  plate,  without  any  increase  of 
its  density,  a  less  period  for  reflection  than  sixteen  years  might 
surely  have  suggested  to  Professor  Tyndall  the  necessity,  in 
applying  his  result  to  geological  matters,  of  providing  moun- 
tains which  were  to  be  squeezed  m  one  direction,  with  room 
for  expansion  in  another. 

17.  For  once,  however,  Professor  Tyndall  is  not  without 
fellowship  in  his  hesitation  to  follow  the  full  circumference 
of  this  question.  Among  the  thousands  of  passages  I  have 
read  in  the  works  even  of  the  most  careful  and  logical  geolo- 
gists,— even  such  as  Humboldt  and  De  Saussure, — I  remem- 
ber not  one  distinct  statement  *  of  the  degree  in  which  they 
supposed  the  lamination  of  any  given  rock  to  imply  real  in- 
crease of  its  density,  or  only  the  lateral  extension  of  its 
mass. 

18.  And  the  student  must  observe  that  in  many  cases 
lateral  extension  of  mass  is  precisely  avoided  by  the  very 
positions  of  rocks  which  are  supposed  to  indicate  the  pressure 

*  As  these  sheets  are  passing  through  the  press,  I  receive  the  follow- 
ing most  important  note  from  Mr.  Clifton  Ward  :  ' '  With  regard  to  the 
question  whether  cleavage  is  necessarily  followed  by  a  reduction  in 
hulk  of  the  body  cleaved,  the  following  cases  may  help  us  to  form  an 
opinion.  Crystalline  volcanic  rocks  (commonly  called  trap),  as  a  rule, 
are  not  cleaved,  though  the  beds,  uncrystalline  in  character,  above  and 
below  them,  may  be.  When,  however,  a  trap  is  highly  vesicular,  it  is 
sometimes  well  cleaved.  May  we  not,  therefore,  suppose  that  in  a  rock, 
wholly  crystalline,  the  particles  are  too  much  interlocked  to  take  up  new 
positions  ?  In  a  purely  fragmentary  rock,  however,  the  particles  seem 
to  have  more  freedom  of  motion  ;  their  motion  under  pressure  leads  to 
a  new  and  more  parallel  arrangement  of  particles,  each  being  slightly 
flattened  or  pulled  out  along  the  planes  of  new  arrangement.  This, 
then,  points  to  a  diminution  of  bulk  at  any  rate  in  a  direction  at  right 
angles  to  the  planes  of  cleavage.  The  tendency  to  new  arrangement  of 
particles  under  pressure  poin  ts  to  accommodation  under  altered  circum- 
stances of  space.  In  rocks  composed  of  fragments,  the  interspaces,  being 
for  the  most  part  larger  than  the  intercrystalline  spaces  of  a  trap  rock, 
more  freely  allow  of  movement  and  new  arrangement." 


160 


DEUCALION. 


sustained.  In  Mr.  Woodward's  experiment  with  sheets  o! 
paper,  for  instance,  (above  quoted,  p.  16,*)  there  is  neither 
increase  of  density  nor  extension  of  mass,  in  the  sheets  of 
paper.  They  remain  just  as  thick  as  they  were, — just  as  long 
and  broad  as  they  were.  They  are  only  altered  in  direction, 
and  no  more  compressed,  as  they  bend,  than  a  flag  is  com- 
pressed by  the  wind  that  waves  it.  In  my  own  experiments 
with  dough,  of  course  the  dough  was  no  more  compressible 
than  so  much  water  would  have  been.  Yet  the  language  of 
the  geologists  who  attribute  cleavage  to  pressure  might  usu- 
ally leave  their  readers  in  the  notion  that  clay  can  be  re- 
duced like  steam ;  and  that  we  could  squeeze  the  sea  down 
to  half  its  depth  by  first  mixing  mud  with  it !  Else,  if  they 
really  comprehended  the  changes  of  form  rendered  necessary 
by  proved  directions  of  pressure,  and  did  indeed  mean  that 
the  paste  of  primitive  slate  had  been  '  flattened  out \  (in  Pro- 
fessor Tyndall's  words)  as  a  cook  flattens  out  her  pastry-crust 
with  a  rolling-pin,  they  would  surely  sometimes  have  asked 
themselves, — and  occasionally  taken  the  pains  to  tell  their 
scholars, — where  the  rocks  in  question  had  been  flattened  to. 
Yet  in  the  entire  series  of  Swiss  sections  (upwards  of  a 
hundred)  given  by  Studer  in  his  Alpine  Geology,  there  is  no 
hint  of  such  a  difficulty  having  occurred  to  him  ; — none,  of 
his  having  observed  any  actual  balance  between  diminution 
of  bulk  and  alteration  of  form  in  contorted  beds  ; — and 
none,  showing  any  attempt  to  distinguish  mechanical  from 
crystalline  foliation.  The  cleavages  are  given  rarely  in  any 
section,  and  always  imperfectly. 

19.  In  the  more  limited,  but  steadier  and  closer,  work  of 
Professor  Phillips  on  the  geology  of  Yorkshire,  the  solitary 
notice  of  "that  very  obscure  subject,  the  cleavage  of  slate  "  is 
contained  in  three  pages,  (5  to  8  of  the  first  chapter,)  de- 
scribing the  structure  of  a  single  quarry,  in  which  the  author 
does  not  know,  and  cannot  eventually  discover,  whether  the 

*  There  is  a  double  mistake  in  the  thirteenth  line  from  the  top  in  that 
page.  I  meant  to  have  written,  4  'from  a  length  of  four  inches  into  the 
length  of  one  inch,"— but  I  believe  the  real  dimensions  should  have 
been  "  a  foot  crushed  into  three  inches. " 


SCHISMA  MONTIUM. 


161 


rock  is  stratified  or  not !  I  respect,  and  admire,  the  frankness 
of  the  confession  ;  but  it  is  evident  that  before  any  affirmation 
of  value,  respecting  cleavages,  can  be  made  by  good  geolo- 
gists, they  must  both  ascertain  many  laws  of  pressure  in 
viscous  substances  at  present  unknown  ;  and  describe  a  great 
many  quarries  with  no  less  attention  than  was  given  by  Pro- 
fessor Phillips  to  this  single  one. 

20.  The  experiment  in  wax,  however,  above  referred  to  as 
ingeniously  performed  by  Professor  Tyndall,  is  not  adduced 
in  the  "Forms  of  Water"  for  elucidation  of  cleavage  in  rocks, 
but  of  riband  structure  in  ice — (of  which  more  presently). 
His  first  display  of  it,  however,  was  I  believe  in  the  lecture 
delivered  in  1856  at  the  Royal  Institution, — this,  and  the  other 
similar  experiments  recorded  in  the  Appendix  to  the  '  Glaciers 
of  the  Alps/  being  then  directed  mainly  to  the  confusion  of 
Professor  Sedgwick,  in  that  the  Cambridge  geologist  had — 
with  caution — expressed  an  opinion  that  cleavage  was  a  result 
of  crystallization  under  polar  forces. 

21.  Of  that  suggestion  Professor  Tyndall  complimentarily 
observed  that  "  it  was  a  bold  stretch  of  analogies,"  and  con- 
descendingly— that  "it  had  its  value, — it  has  drawn  attention 
to  the  subject. "  Presently,  translating  this  too  vulgarly  in- 
telligible statement  into  his  own  sublime  language,  he  declares 
of  the  theory  in  debate  that  it,  and  the  like  of  it,  are  "  a 
dynamic  power  wdiich  operates  against  intellectual  stagnation." 
How  a  dynamic  power  differs  from  an  undynamic  one, — (and, 
presumably,  also,  a  potestatic  dynamis  from  an  unpotestatic 
one  ;)  and  how  much  more  scientific  it  is  to  say,  instead  of — 
that  our  spoon  stirs  our  porridge, — that  it  "  operates  against 
the  stagnation  "  of  our  porridge,  Professor  Tyndall  trusts  the 
reader  to  recognize  with  admiration.  But  if  any  stirring,  or 
skimming,  or  other  operation  of  a  duly  dynamic  character, 
could  have  clarified  from  its  scum  of  vanity  the  pease-porridge 
of  his  own  wits,  Professor  Tyndall  would  have  felt  that  men 
like  the  Cambridge  veteran, — one  of  the  very  few  modern  men 
of  science  who  possessed  real  genius, — stretch  no  analogies 
farther  than  they  will  hold  ;  and,  in  this  particular  case,  there 
were  two  facts,  familiar  to  Sedgwick,  and  with  which  Pro- 


102 


DEUCALION. 


fessor  Tyndall  manifesis  no  acquaintance,  materially  affecting 
every  question  relating  to  cleavage  structure. 

22.  The  first,  that  all  slates  whatever,  among  the  older  rocks, 
are  more  or  less  metamorphic  ;  and  that  all  metamorphism 
implies  the  development  of  crystalline  force.  Neither  the 
chiastolite  in  the  slate  of  Skiddaw,  nor  the  kyanite  in  that 
of  St.  Gothard,  could  have  been  formed  without  the  exertion, 
through  the  whole  body  of  the  rock,  of  crystalline  force, 
which,  extracting  some  of  its  elements,  necessarily  modifies 
the  structure  of  the  rest.  The  second,  that  slate-quarries  of 
commercial  value,  fortunately  rare  among  beautiful  mountains, 
owe  their  utility  to  the  unusual  circumstance  of  cleaving,  over 
the  quarry  able  space,  practically  in  one  direction  only.  But 
such  quarryable  spaces  extend  only  across  a  few  fathoms  of 
crag,  and  the  entire  mass  of  the  slate  mountains  of  the  world 
is  cloven,  not  in  one,  but  in  half  a  dozen  directions,  each  sep- 
arate and  explicit  ;  and  requiring,  for  their  production  on  the 
pressure  theory,  the  application  of  half  a  dozen  distinct  press- 
ures, of  which  none  shall  neutralize  the  effect  of  any  other ! 
That  six  applications  of  various  pressures  at  various  epochs, 
might  produce  six  cross  cleavages,  may  be  conceived  without 
unpardonable  rashness,  and  conceded  without  perilous  cour- 
tesy ;  but  before  pursuing  the  investigation  of  this  hexfoiled 
subject,  it  would  be  well  to  ascertain  wThether  the  cleavage  of 
any  rock  wrhatever  does  indeed  accommodate  itself  to  the  cal- 
culable variations  of  a  single  pressure,  applied  at  a  single 
time. 

23.  Whenever  a  bed  of  rock  is  bent,  the  substance  of  it  on 
the  concave  side  must  be  compressed,  and  the  substance  of 
it  on  the  convex  side,  expanded.  The  degree  in  which  such 
change  of  structure  must  take  place  may  be  studied  at  ease 
in  one's  arm-chair  with  no  more  apparatus  than  a  stick  of 
sealing-wax  and  a  candle  ;  and  as  soon  as  I  am  shown  a  bent 
bed  of  any  rock  with  distinct  lamination  on  its  concave  side, 
traceably  gradated  into  distinct  crevassing  on  its  convex  one, 
I  will  admit  without  farther  debate  the  connection  of  foliation 
with  pressure. 

24.  In  the  meantime,  the  delicate  experiments  by  the  con- 


SCH1SMA  MONTIUM. 


1G3 


duct  of  which  Professor  Tyndall  brought  his  audiences  into 
what  he  is  pleased  to  call  "contact  with  facts"  (in  olden  times 
we  used  to  say  '  grasp  of  facts '  ;  modern  science,  for  its  own 
part  prefers,  not  unreasonably,  the  term  '  contact,'  expressive 
merely  of  occasional  collision  with  them,)  must  remain  incon- 
clusive. But  if  in  the  course  of  his  own  various  '  contact  with 
facts  '  Professor  Tyndall  has  ever  come  across  a  bed  of  slate 
squeezed  between  twro  pieces  of  glass — or  anything  like  them 
— I  will  thank  him  for  a  description  of  the  locality.  All 
me tani orphic  slates  have  been  subjected  assuredly  to  heat — 
probably  to  pressure  ;  but  (unless  they  were  merely  the  shaly 
portions  of  a  stratified  group)  the  pressure  to  which  they  have 
been  subjected  was  that  of  an  irregular  mass  of  rock  ejected 
in  the  midst  of  them,  or  driven  fiercely  against  them  ;  and 
their  cleavage — so  far  as  it  is  indeed  produced  by  that  pressure, 
must  be  such  as  the  iron  of  a  target  shows  round  a  shell  ; — 
and  not  at  all  representable  by  a  film  of  candle-droppings. 

25.  It  is  further  to  be  observed, — and  not  without  increas- 
ing surprise  and  increasing  doubt, — that  the  experiment  was 
shown,  on  the  first  occasion,  to  explain  the  lamination  of  slate, 
and,  on  the  second,  to  explain  the  riband  structure  of  ice. 
But  there  are  no  ribands  in  slate,  and  there  is  no  lamination 
in  ice.  There  are  no  regulated  alternations  of  porous  with 
solid  substance  in  the  one  ;  and  there  are  no  constancies  of 
fracture  by  plane  surfaces  in  the  other  ;  moreover — and  this 
is  to  be  chiefly  noted, — slate  lamination  is  always  straight ; 
glacier  banding  always  bent.  The  structure  of  the  pressed 
wrax  might  possibly  explain  one  or  other  of  these  phenomena  ; 
but  could  not  possibly  explain  both,  and  does  actually  explain 
neither. 

26.  That  the  arrangement  of  rock  substance  into  fissile  folia 
does  indeed  take  place  in  metamorphic  aluminous  masses  un- 
der some  manner  of  pressure,  has,  I  believe,  been  established 
by  the  investigations  both  of  Mr.  Sorby  and  of  Mr.  Clifton 
Ward.  But  the  reasons  for  continuity  of  parallel  cleavage 
through  great  extents  of  variously  contorted  beds  ; — for  its  al- 
most uniform  assumption  of  a  high  angle  ; — for  its  as  uniform 
non-occurrence  in  horizontal  laminae  under  vertical  i>ressure, 


164 


DEUCALIOK 


however  vast ; — for  its  total  disregard  of  the  forces  causing 
upheaval  of  the  beds  ; — and  its  mysteriously  deceptive  har- 
monies with  the  stratification,  if  only  steep  enough,  of  neigh- 
bouring sedimentary  rocks,  remain  to  this  hour,  not  only  un- 
assigned,  but  unsought. 

27.  And  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  understand  either  the  con- 
tentment of  geologists  with  this  state  of  things,  or  the  results 
on  the  mind  of  ingenuous  learners,  of  the  partial  and  more 
or  less  contradictory  information  hitherto  obtainable  on  the 
subject.  The  section  given  in  the  two  lowrer  figures  of  Plate 
VII.  was  drawn  for  me,  as  I  have  already  said,  by  my  most 
affectionately  and  reverently  remembered  friend,  Professor 
Phillips,  of  Oxford.  It  goes  through  the  entire  crest  of  the 
Lake  district  from  Lancaster  to  Carlisle,  the  first  emergent 
rock-beds  being  those  of  mountain  limestone,  A  to  B,  not 
steeply  inclined,  but  lying  unconformably  on  the  steeply  in- 
clined flags  and  grit  of  Furness  Fells,  B  to  C.  In  the  depres- 
sion at  C  lies  Coniston  Lake  ;  then  follow  the  masses  of  Con- 
iston  Old  Man  and  Scawfell,  C  to  D,  sinking  to  the  basin  of 
Derwentwater  just  after  the  junction,  at  Grange,  of  their  vol- 
canic ashes  with  the  Skiddaw  slate..  Skiddaw  himself,  and 
Carrock  Fell,  rise  between  D  and  E ;  and  above  E,  at  Cald- 
beck,  again  the  mountain  limestone  appears  in  unconformable 
bedding,  declining  under  the  Trias  of  the  plain  of  Carlisle,  at 
the  northern  extremity  of  which  a  few  rippled  lines  do  service 
for  the  waves  of  Solway. 

28.  The  entire  ranges  of  the  greater  mountains,  it  will  be 
seen,  are  thus  represented  by  Professor  Phillips  as  consisting 
of  more  or  less  steeply  inclined  beds,  parallel  to  those  of  the 
Furness  shales  ;  and  traversed  by  occasional  cleavages  at  an 
opposite  angle.  But  in  the  section  of  the  Geological  Survey, 
already  referred  to,  the  beds  parallel  to  the  Furness  shales 
reach  only  as  far  as  Wetherlam,  and  the  central  mountains  are 
represented  as  laid  in  horizontal  or  slightly  basin-shaped 
swirls  of  ashes,  traversed  by  ejected  trap,  and  divided  by  no 
cleavages  at  all,  except  a  few  vertical  ones  indicative  of  the 
Tilberthwaite  slate  quarries. 

29.  I  think  it  somewhat  hard  upon  me,  now  that  I  am  sixty 


S  CIIIS MA  MONTIUM. 


165 


years  old,  and  short  of  breath  in  going  up  hills,  to  have  to 
compare,  verify  for  myself,  and  reconcile  as  I  may,  these  en- 
tirely adverse  representations  of  the  classical  mountains  of 
England  : — no  less  than  that  I  am  left  to  carryforward,  in  my 
broken  leisure,  the  experiments  on  viscous  motion  instituted 
by  James  Forbes  thirty  years  ago.  For  the  present,  however, 
I  choose  Professor  Phillips's  section  as  far  the  most  accurately 
representative  of  the  general  aspect  of  matters,  to  my  present 
judgment;  and  hope,  with  Mr.  Clifton  Ward's  good  help,  to 
give  more  detailed  drawings  of  separate  parts  in  the  next  vol- 
ume of  Deucalion. 

30.  I  am  prepared  also  to  find  Professor  Phillips's  drawing 
in  many  respects  justifiable,  by  my  own  former  studies  of  the 
cleavage  structure  of  the  central  Alps,  which,  in  all  the  cases 
I  have  examined,  I  found  to  be  a  distinctly  crystalline  lami- 
nation, sometimes  contorted  according  to  the  rock's  own 
humour,  fantastically  as  Damascus  steel ;  but  presently  after- 
wards assuming  inconceivable  consistency  with  the  untroubled 
repose  of  the  sedimentary  masses  into  whose  company  it  had 
been  thrust.  The  junction  of  the  contorted  gneiss  through 
which  the  gorge  of  Trient  is  cleft,  with  the  micaceous  marble 
on  which  the  tower  of  Martigny  is  built,  is  a  transition  of  this 
kind  within  reach  of  the  least  adventurous  traveller  ;  and  the 
junction  of  the  gneiss  of  the  Montanvert  with  the  porous 
limestone  which  underlies  it,  is  certainly  the  most  interesting, 
and  the  most  easily  explored,  piece  of  rock-fellowship  in 
Europe.  Yet  the  gneissitic  lamination  of  the  Montanvert  has 
been  attributed  to  stratification  by  one  group  of  geologists, 
and  to  cleavage  by  another,  ever  since  the  valley  of  Chamouni 
was  first  heard  of,  and  the  only  accurate  drawings  of  the 
beds  hitherto  given  are  those  published  thirty  years  ago  in 
'Modern  Painters/  I  had  hoped  at  the  same  time  to  con- 
tribute some  mite  of  direct  evidence  to  their  elucidation,  by 
sinking  a  gallery  in  the  soft  limestone  under  the  gneiss,  sup- 
posing the  upper  rock  hard  enough  to  form  a  safe  roof  ;  but 
a  decomposing  fragment  fell,  and  so  nearly  ended  the  troubles, 
with  the  toil,  of  the  old  miner  who  was  driving  the  tunnel, 
that  I  attempted  no  farther  inquiries  in  that  practical  manner, 


166 


DEUCALIOJST. 


31.  The  narrow  bed,  curved  like  a  sickle,  and  coloured  ver- 
milion, among  the  purple  slate,  in  the  uppermost  section  oi 
Plate  VII,  is  intended  to  represent  the  position  of  the  sin- 
gular band  of  quartzite  and  mottled  schists,  ("bunte  schie- 
fer,")  which,  on  the  authority  of  Studer's  section  at  page  178 
of  his  second  volume,  underlies,  at  least  for  some  thousands 
of  feet,  the  granite  of  the  Jungfrau  ;  and  corresponds,  in  its 
relation  to  the  uppermost  cliff  of  that  mountain,  with  the 
subjacence  of  the  limestone  of  Les  Tines  to  the  aiguilles  of 
Chamouni.  I  have  coloured  it  vermilion  in  order  to  connect 
it  in  the  student's  mind  with  the  notable  conglomerates  of  the 
Black  Forest,  through  which  their  underlying  granites  pass 
into  the  Trias  ;  but  the  reversed  position  which  it  here  as- 
sumes, and  the  relative  dominance  of  the  central  mass  of  the 
Bernese  Alps,  if  given  by  Studer  with  fidelity,  are  certainly 
the  first  structural  phenomena  which  the  geologists  of  Ger- 
many should  benevolently  qualify  themselves  to  explain  to  the 
summer  society  of  Interlachen.  The  view  of  the  Jungfrau 
from  the  Castle  of  Manfred  is  probably  the  most  beautiful 
natural  vision  in  Europe  ;  but,  for  all  that  modern  science 
can  hitherto  tell  us,  the  construction  of  it  is  supernatural,  and 
explicable  only  by  the  Witch  of  the  Alps. 

32.  In  the  meantime  I  close  this  volume  of  Deucalion  by 
noting  firmly  one  or  two  letters  of  the  cuneiform  language  in 
which  the  history  of  that  scene  has  been  written. 

There  are  five  conditions  of  rock  cleavage  wThich  the  stu- 
dent must  accustom  himself  to  recognize,  and  hold  apart  in 
his  mind  with  perfect  clearness,  in  all  study  of  mountain  form. 

I.  The  Wave  cleavage :  that  is  to  say,  the  condition  of 
structure  on  a  vast  scale  which  has  regulated  the  succession 
of  summits.  In  almost  all  chains  of  mountains  not  volcanic, 
if  seen  from  a  rightly  chosen  point,  some  law  of  sequence  will 
manifest  itself  in  the  arrangement  of  their  eminences.  On  a 
small  scale,  the  declining  surges  of  pastoral  mountain,  from 
the  summit  of  Helvellyn  to  the  hills  above  Kendal,  seen  from 
any  point  giving  a  clear  profile  of  them,  on  Wetherlam  or  the 
Old  Man  of  Coniston,  show  a  quite  rhythmic,  almost  formal, 
order  of  ridged  waves,  with  their  steepest  sides  to  the  low 


SCHISMA  MONTIUM. 


167 


lands  ;  for  which  the  cause  must  be  sought  in  some  internal 
structure  of  the  rocks,  utterly  untraceable  in  close  section. 
On  vaster  scale,  the  succession  of  the  aiguilles  of  Chamouni, 
and  of  the  great  central  aiguilles  themselves,  from  the  dome 
of  Mont  Blanc  through  the  Jorasses,  to  the  low  peak  of  the 
aiguille  de  Trient,  is  again  regulated  by  a  harmonious  law  of 
alternate  cleft  and  crest,  which  can  be  studied  rightly  only 
from  the  far-distant  Jura. 

The  main  directions  of  this  vast  mountain  tendency  might 
always  be  shown  in  a  moderately  good  model  of  any  given 
district,  by  merely  colouring  all  slopes  of  ground  inclined  at 
a  greater  angle  than  thirty  degrees,  of  some  darker  colour 
than  the  rest.  No  slope  of  talus  can  maintain  itself  at  a 
higher  angle  than  this,  (compare  *  Modern  Painters/  vol.  iv., 
p.  318 ;)  and  therefore,  while  the  mathematical  laws  of  curva- 
ture by  aqueous  denudation,  which  were  first  ascertained  and 
systematized  by  Mr.  Alfred  Tylor,  will  be  found  assuredly  to 
regulate  or  modify  the  disposition  of  masses  reaching  no 
steeper  angle,  the  cliffs  and  banks  which  exceed  it,  brought 
into  one  abstracted  group,  will  always  display  the  action  of 
the  wave  cleavage  on  the  body  of  the  yet  resisting  rocks. 

33.  II.  The  Structural  cleavage. 

This  is  essentially  determined  by  the  arrangement  of  the 
plates  of  mica  in  crystalline  rocks,  or — where  the  mica  is  ob- 
scurely formed,  or  replaced  by  other  minerals — by  the  sinu- 
osities of  their  quartz  veins.  Next  to  the  actual  bedding,  it 
is  the  most  important  element  of  form  in  minor  masses  of 
crag  ;  but  in  its  influence  on  large  contours,  subordinate  al- 
ways to  the  two  next  following  orders  of  cleavage. 

34.  IIL  The  Asphodeline  cleavage  ; — the  detachment,  that 
is  to  say,  of  curved  masses  of  crag  more  or  less  concentric, 
like  the  coats  of  an  onion.  It  is  for  the  most  part  transverse 
to  the  structural  cleavage,  and  forms  rounded  domes  and 
bending  billows  of  smooth  contour,  on  the  flanks  of  the  great 
foliated  mountains,  which  look  exactly  as  if  they  had  been 
worn  for  ages  under  some  river  of  colossal  strength.  It  is  far 
and  away  the  most  important  element  of  mountain  form  in 
granitic  and  metamorphic  districts. 


168 


DEUCALION. 


35.  IV.  The  Frontal  cleavage.  This  shows  itself  only  on 
the  steep  escarpments  of  sedimentary  rock,  when  the  cliff  has 
been  produced  in  all  probability  by  rending  elevatory  force. 
It  occurs  on  the  faces  of  nearly  ail  the  great  precipices  in  Savoy, 
formed  of  Jura  limestone,  and  has  been  in  many  cases  mis- 
taken for  real  bedding.  I  hold  it  one  of  the  most  fortunate 
chances  attending  the  acquisition  of  Brantwood,  that  I  have 
within  three  hundred  yards  of  me,  as  I  write,  jutting  from 
beneath  my  garden  wall,  a  piece  of  crag  knit  out  of  the 
Furness  shales,  showing  frontal  cleavage  of  the  most  definite 
kind,  and  enabling  me  to  examine  the  conditions  of  it  as  per- 
fectly as  I  could  at  Bonneville  or  Annecy. 

36.  V.  The  Atomic  cleavage. 

This  is  the  mechanical  fracture  of  the  rock  under  the  hammer, 
indicating  the  mode  of  coherence  between  its  particles,  irre- 
spectively of  their  crystalline  arrangements.  The  conchoidal 
fractures  of  flint  and  calcite,  the  raggedly  vitreous  fractures  of 
quartz  and  corundum,  and  the  earthy  transverse  fracture  of 
clay  slate,  come  under  this  general  head.  And  supposing  it 
proved  that  slaty  lamination  is  indeed  owing  either  to  the  lat- 
eral expansion  of  the  mass  under  pressure,  or  to  the  filling 
of  vacant  pores  in  it  by  the  flattening  of  particles,  such  a 
formation  ought  to  be  considered,  logically,  as  the  ultimate 
degree  of  fineness  in  the  coherence  of  crushed  substance  ;  and 
not  properly  a  '  structure/  I  should  call  this,  therefore,  also 
an  '  atomic '  cleavage. 

37.  The  more  or  less  rectilinear  divisions,  known  as  '  joints/ 
and  apparently  owing  merely  to  the  desiccation  or  contraction 
of  the  rock,  are  not  included  in  the  above  list  of  cleavages, 
which  is  limited  strictly  to  the  characters  of  separation  in- 
duced either  by  arrangements  of  the  crystalline  elements,  or 
by  violence  in  the  methods  of  rock  elevation  or  sculpture. 

38.  If  my  life  is  spared,  and  my  purposes  hold,  the  second 
volume  of  Deucalion  will  contain  such  an  account  of  the  hills 
surrounding  me  in  this  district,  as  shall  be,  so  far  as  it  is  car- 
ried, trustworthy  down  to  the  minutest  details  in  the  exposi- 
tion of  their  first  elements  of  mountain  form.  And  I  am  even 
fond  enough  to  hope  that  some  of  the  youths  of  Oxford,  edu- 


SCHISMA  MONTIUM. 


169 


cated  in  its  now  established  schools  of  Natural  History  and 
Art,  may  so  securely  and  consistently  follow  out  such  a  piece 
of  home  study  by  the  delineation  of  the  greater  mountains 
they  are  proud  to  climb,  as  to  redeem,  at  last,  the  ingenious 
nineteenth  century  from  the  reproach  of  having  fostered  a 
mountaineering  club,  which  was  content  to  approve  itself  in 
competitive  agilities,  without  knowing  either  how  an  aiguille 
stood,  or  how  a  glacier  flowed  ;  and  a  Geological  Society, 
which  discoursed  with  confidence  on  the  catastrophes  of 
chaos,  and  the  processes  of  creation,  without  being  able  to 
tell  a  builder  how  a  slate  split,  or  a  lapidary  how  a  pebble 
was  coloured, 


APPENDIX. 


When  I  began  Deucalion,  one  of  the  hopes  chiefly  connected 
with  it  was  that  of  giving  some  account  of  the  work  done  by 
the  real  masters  and  fathers  of  Geology.  I  must  not  conclude 
this  first  volume  without  making  some  reference,  (more  espe- 
cially in  relation  to  the  subjects  of  inquiry  touched  upon  in 
its  last  chapter,)  to  the  modest  life  and  intelligent  labour  of  a 
most  true  pioneer  in  geological  science,  Jonathan  Otley.  Mr. 
Clifton  Ward's  sketch  of  the  good  guide's  life,  drawn  up  in 
1877  for  the  Cumberland  Association  for  the  Advancement  of 
Literature  and  Science,  supplies  me  with  the  following  par- 
ticulars of  it,  deeply — as  it  seems  to  me — instructive  and  im- 
pressive. 

He  was  born  near  Ambleside,  at  Nook  House,  in  Loughrigg, 
January  19th,  1766.  His  father  was  a  basket-maker  ;  and  it  is 
especially  interesting  to  me,  in  connection  with  the  resolved 
retention  of  Latin  as  one  of  the  chief  elements  of  education  in 
the  system  I  am  arranging  for  St.  George's  schools,  to  find  that 
the  Westmoreland  basket-maker  was  a  good  Latin  scholar ; 
and  united  Oxford  and  Cambridge  discipline  for  his  son  with 
one  nobler  than  either,  by  making  him  study  Latin  and 
mathematics,  while,  till  he  was  twenty-five,  he  worked  as  his 
father's  journeyman  at  his  father's  handicraft.  "He  also 
cleaned  all  the  clocks  and  watches  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
showed  himself  very  skilful  in  engraving  upon  copper-plates, 
seals  and  coin."  In  1791  he  moved  to  Keswick,  and  there 
lived  sixty-five  years,  and  died,  ninety  years  old  and  upwards. 

I  find  no  notice  in  Mr.  Ward's  paper  of  the  death  of  the 
father,  to  whose  good  sense  and  firmness  the  boy  owed  so 
much.    There  was  yet  a  more  wof ul  reason  for  his  leaving  his 


172 


DEUCALION. 


birthplace.  He  was  in  love  with  a  young  woman  named  Anno 
Youdale,  and  had  engraved  their  names  together  on  a  silver 
coin.  But  the  village  blacksmith,  Mr.  Bowness,  was  also  a 
suitor  for  the  maiden's  hand  ;  and  some  years  after,  Jonathan's 
niece,  Mrs.  "Wilson,  asking  him  how  it  was  that  his  name  and 
Anne  Youdale's  were  engraved  together  on  the  same  coin,  he 
replied,  "  Oh,  the  blacksmith  beat  me."  *  He  never  married, 
but  took  to  mineralogy,  watchmaking,  and  other  consolatory 
pursuits,  with  mountain  rambling — alike  discursive  and  at- 
tentive. Let  me  not  omit  what  thanks  for  friendly  help  and 
healthy  stimulus  to  the  earnest  youth  may  be  due  to  another 
honest  Cumberland  soul, — Mr.  Crosthwaite.  Otley  was  stand- 
ing one  day  (before  he  removed  to  Keswick)  outside  the 
Crosthwaite  Museum,  f  when  he  was  accosted  by  its  founder, 
and  asked  if  he  would  sell  a  curious  stick  he  held  in  his  hand. 
Otley  asked  a  shilling  for  it,  the  proprietor  of  the  Museum 
stipulating  to  show  him  the  collection  over  the  bargain.  From 
this  time  congenial  tastes  drew  the  two  together  as  firm  and 
staunch  friends. 

He  lived  all  his  life  at  Keswick,  in  lodgings, — recognized 
as  "  Jonathan  Otley's,  up  the  steps," — paying  from  five  shil- 
lings a  week  at  first,  to  ten,  in  uttermost  luxury  ;  and  being 
able  to  give  account  of  his  keep  to  a  guinea,  up  to  October 
18,  1852, — namely,  board  and  lodging  for  sixty-one  years  and 
one  week,  £1325  ;  rent  of  room  extra,  fifty-six  years,  £164  10a 

*I  doubt  tlie  orthography  of  the  fickle  maid's  name,  but  all  authority 
of  antiquaries  obliges  me  to  distinguish  it  from  that  of  the  valley.  I  do 
so,  however,  still  under  protest — as  if  I  were  compelled  to  write  Lord 
Lonsdale,  '  Lownsdale,'  or  the  Marquis  of  Tweeddale,  4  Twaddle,'  or  the 
victorious  blacksmith,  '  Beauness.'  The  latter's  family  still  retain  the 
forge  by  Elter  Water— an  entirely  distinct  branch,  I  am  told,  from  our 
blacksmith's  of  the  Dale :  see  above,  pp.  133,  134. 

f  In  that  same  museum,  my  first  collection  of  minerals — fifty  specimens 
—total  price,  if  I  remember  rightly,  five  shillings— was  bought  for  me, 
by  my  father,  of  Mr.  Crosthwaite.  No  subsequent  possession  has  had  so 
much  influence  on  my  life.  I  studied  Turner  at  his  own  gallery,  and  in 
Mr.  Windus's  portfolios  ;  but  the  little  yellow  bit  of  "  copper  ore  from 
Coniston,"  and  the  "Garnets"  (I  never  could  see  more  than  one!) 
from  Borrowdale,  were  the  beginning  of  science  to  me  which  never 
could  have  been  otherwise  acquired. 


APPENDIX. 


173 


Total  keep  and  roof  overhead,  for  the  sixty  usefullest  of  his 
ninety  years,  £1489  10s. 

Thus  housed  and  fed,  he  became  the  friend,  and  often  the 
teacher,  of  the  leading  scientific  men  of  his  clay, — Dr.  Dalton 
the  chemist,  Dr.  Henry  the  chemist,  Mr.  Farey  the  engineer, 
Airy  the  Astronomer  Royal,  Professor  Phillips  of  Oxford,  and 
Professor  Sedgwick  of  Cambridge.  He  was  the  first  accurate 
clescriber  and  accurate  map-maker  of  the  Lake  district ;  the 
founder  of  the  geological  divisions  of  its  rocks, — which  were 
accepted  from  him  by  Sedgwick,  and  are  now  finally  con- 
firmed ; — and  the  first  who  clearly  defined  the  separation  be- 
tween bedding,  cleavage,  and  joint  in  rock, — hence  my  en- 
forced notice  of  him,  in  this  place.  Mr.  Ward's  Memoir  gives 
examples  of  his  correspondence  with  the  men  of  science  above 
named  :  both  Phillips  and  Sedgwick  referring  always  to  him 
in  any  question  touching  Cumberland  rocks,  and  becoming 
gradually  his  sincere  and  affectionate  friends.  Sedgwick  sate 
by  his  death-bed. 

I  shall  have  frequent  occasion  to  refer  to  his  letters,  and  to 
avail  myself  of  his  work.  But  that  work  was  chiefly  crowned 
in  the  example  he  left — not  of  what  is  vulgarly  praised  as 
weilt-help,  (for  every  noble  spirit's  watchword  is  "God  us 
ayde") — but  of  the  rarest  of  mortal  virtues,  self-possession, 
"  In  your  patience,  possess  ye  your  souls." 

I  should  have  dwelt  at  greater  length  on  the  worthiness 
both  of  the  tenure  and  the  treasure,  but  for  the  bitterness  of 
my  conviction  that  the  rage  of  modern  vanity  must  destroy 
in  our  scientific  schoolmen,  alike  the  casket,  and  the  possession. 


DEUCALION. 

VOL.  H. 


CHAPTEK  I 

LIVING  WAVES. 

1.  The  opening  of  the  second  volume  of  Deucalion  with  a 
Lecture  on  Serpents  may  seem  at  first  a  curiously  serpentine 
mode  of  advance  towards  the  fulfilment  of  my  promise  that 
the  said  volume  should  contain  an  account  of  the  hills  sur- 
rounding me  at  Coniston,  (above,  vol.  i.,  p.  168,  §  38).  But 
I  am  obliged  now  in  all  things  to  follow  in  great  part  the 
leadings  of  circumstance  :  and  although  it  was  only  the  fortui- 
tous hearing  of  a  lecture  by  Professor  Huxley  which  induced 
me  to  take  up  at  present  the  materials  I  had  by  me  respecting 
snake  motion,  I  believe  my  readers  will  find  their  study  of 
undulatory  forces  dealt  through  the  shattered  vertebrae  of 
rocks,  very  materially  enlivened,  if  not  aided,  by  first  observ- 
ing the  transitions  of  it  through  the  adjusted  vertebrae  of  the 
serpent.  I  wrould  rather  indeed  have  made  this  the  matter  of 
a  detached  essay,  but  my  distinct  books  are  far  too  numerous 
already ;  and,  if  I  could  only  complete  them  to  my  mind, 
would  in  the  end  rather  see  all  of  them  fitted  into  one  colu- 
brine  chain  of  consistent  strength,  than  allowed  to  stand  in 
any  broken  or  diverse  relations. 

There  are,  however,  no  indications  in  the  text  of  the  lecture 
itself  of  its  possible  use  in  my  geological  work.  It  was  written 
as  briefly  and  clearly  as  I  could,  for  its  own  immediate  purpose : 
and  is  given  here,  as  it  was  delivered,  with  only  the  insertion 
of  the  passages  I  was  forced  to  omit  for  want  of  time. 

2.  The  lecture,  as  it  stands,  was,  as  I  have  just  said,  thrown 


176 


DEUCALION, 


together  out  of  the  materials  I  had  by  me  ;  most  of  them  for 
a  considerable  time  ;  and  with  the  help  of  such  books  as  I 
chanced  to  possess, — chiefly,  the  last  French  edition  of  Cuvier, 
— Dr.  Russell's  Indian  Serpents, — and  Bell's  British  Reptiles. 
Not  until  after  the  delivery  of  the  lecture  for  the  second  time, 
was  I  aware  of  the  splendid  wrork  done  recently  by  Dr  Gun- 
ther,  nor  had  I  ever  seen  drawings  of  serpents  for  a  moment 
comparable,  both  in  action  and  in  detail  of  scale,  to  those  by 
Mr.  Ford  which  illustrate  Dr.  Gunther's  descriptions ;  or,  in 
colour,  and  refinement  of  occasional  action,  to  those  given  in 
Dr.  Fayrer's  Thanatophidia  of  India.  The  reader  must  there- 
fore understand  that  anything  generally  said,  in  the  following 
lecture,  of  modern  scientific  shortcoming,  or  error,  is  not  to 
be  understood  as  applying  to  any  publication  by  either  of  these 
two  authors,  who  have,  I  believe,  been  the  first  naturalists  to 
adopt  the  artistically  and  mathematically  sound  method  of 
delineation  by  plan  and  profile  ;  and  the  first  to  represent 
serpent  action  in  true  lines,  whether  of  actual  curve,  or  induced 
perspective. 

What  follows,  then,  is  the  text  of  what  I  read,  or,  to  the 
best  of  my  memory,  spoke,  at  the  London  Institution. 

3.  In  all  my  lectures  on  Natural  History  at  Oxford  I  virtu- 
ally divided  my  subject  always  into  three  parts,  and  asked  my 
pupils,  first,  to  consider  what  had  been  beautifully  thought 
about  the  creature  ;  secondly,  what  was  accurately  known  of 
it  ;  thirdly,  what  was  to  be  wisely  asked  about  it. 

First,  you  observe,  what  wras,  or  had  been,  beautifully 
thought  about  it ;  the  effect  of  the  creature,  that  is  to  say, 
[luring  past  ages,  on  the  greatest  human  minds.  This,  it  is 
especially  the  business  of  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar  to  know. 
It  is  a  king's  business,  for  instance,  to  know  the  meaning  of 
the  legend  of  the  basilisk,  the  King  of  Serpents,  who  killed 
with  a  look,  in  order  that  he  may  not  himself  become  like  a 
basilisk.  But  that  kind  of  knowledge  would  be  of  small  use 
to  a  viper-catcher. 

Then  the  second  part  of  the  animal's  history  is — what  is 
truly  known  of  it,  which  one  usually  finds  to  be  extremely 
little. 


LIVING  WAVES. 


177 


And  the  third  part  of  its  history  will  be — what  remains  to 
be  asked  about  it — what  it  now  behoves  us,  or  will  be  profit- 
able to  us,  to  discover. 

4.  It  will  perhaps  be  a  weight  off  jour  minds  to  be  assured 
that  I  shall  waive  to-night  the  first  part  of  the  subject  alto- 
gether except  so  far  as  thoughts  of  it  may  be  suggested  to 
you  by  Mr.  Severn's  beautiful  introductory  diagram, *  and  by 
the  references  I  have  to  make  to  it,  though  shown  for  the  sake 
of  the  ivy,  not  the  Eve, — its  subject  being  already  explained 
in  my  Florentine  Guide  to  the  Shepherd's  Tower.  But  I  will 
venture  to  detain  you  a  few  moments  while  I  point  out  how, 
in  one  great  department  of  modern  science,  past  traditions 
may  be  used  to  facilitate,  where  at  present  they  do  but  en- 
cumber, even  the  materialistic  teaching  of  our  own  day. 

5.  When  I  was  furnishing  Brantwood,  a  few  years  ago,  I 
indulged  myself  with  two  bran-new  globes,  brought  up  to  all 
the  modern  fine  discoveries.  I  find,  however,  that  there's 
so  much  in  them  that  I  can  see  nothing.  The  names  are 
too  many  on  the  earth,  and  the  stars  too  crowded  in  the 
heaven.  And  I  am  going  to  have  made  for  my  Coniston 
parish  school  a  series  of  drawings  in  dark  blue,  with  golden 
stars,  of  one  constellation  at  a  time,  such  as  my  diagram  No. 
2,  with  no  names  written  to  the  stars  at  all.  For  if  the  chil- 
dren don't  know  their  names  without  print  on  their  diagram, 
they  won't  know  them  without  print  on  the  sky.  Then  there 
must  be  a  school-manual  of  the  constellations,  which  will  have 
the  legend  of  each  told  as  simply  as  a  fairy  tale  ;  and  the 
names  of  the  chief  stars  given  on  a  map  of  them,  correspond- 
ing to  the  blue  diagram, — both  of  course  drawn  as  the  stars- 
are  placed  in  the  sky  ;  or  as  they  would  be  seen  on  a  concave 
celestial  globe,  from  the  centre  of  it.  The  having  to  look 
down  on  the  stars  from  outside  of  them  is  a  difficult  position 
for  children  to  comprehend,  and  not  a  very  scientific  one,  even 
when  comprehended. 

6.  But  to  do  all  this  rightly,  I  must  have  better  outlines 
than  those  at  present  extant.    The  red  diagram,  No.  3,  which 

*  The  Creation  of  Eve,  bas-relief  from  the  tower  of  Giotto.  The 
photograph  may  he  obtained  from  Mr,  Ward. 


178 


DEUCALION. 


has  I  hope  a  little  amused  you,  more  than  frightened,  is  an 
enlargement  of  the  outline  given  on  my  new  celestial  globe, 
to  the  head  of  the  constellation  Draco.  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  it  is  as  false  to  nature  as  it  is  foolish  in  art ;  and  I  want 
you  to  compare  it  with  the  uppermost  snake  head  in  No.  4, 
because  the  two  together  will  show  you  in  a  moment  what 
long  chapters  of  '  Modern  Painters '  were  written  to  explain, — 
how  the  real  faculty  of  imagination  is  always  true,  and  goes 
straight  to  its  mark :  but  people  with  no  imagination  are 
always  false,  and  blunder  or  drivel  about  their  mark.  That 
red  head  was  drawn  by  a  man  who  didn't  know  a  snake  from 
a  sausage,  and  had  no  more  imagination  in  him  than  the 
chopped  pork  of  which  it  is  made.  Of  course  he  didn't  know 
that,  and  with  a  scrabble  of  lines  this  way  and  the  other, 
gets  together  what  he  thinks  an  invention — a  knot  of  gratui- 
tous lies,  which  you  contentedly  see  portrayed  as  an  instrument 
of  your  children's  daily  education.  While — two  thousand  and 
more  years  ago — the  people  who  had  imagination  enough  to 
believe  in  Gods,  saw  also  faithfully  what  was  to  be  seen  in 
snakes  ;  and  the  Greek  workman  gives,  as  you  see  in  this  en- 
largement of  the  silver  drachma  of  Phsestus,  with  a  group  of 
some  six  or  seven  sharp  incisions,  the  half-dead  and  yet  dread- 
ful eye,  the  flat  brow,  the  yawning  jaw,  and  the  forked  tongue, 
which  are  an  abstract  of  the  serpent  tribe  for  ever  and  ever. 

And  I  certify  you  that  all  the  exhibitions  they  could  see  in 
all  London  would  not  teach  your  children  so  much  of  art  as 
a  celestial  globe  in  the  nursery,  designed  with  the  force  and 
the  simplicity  of  a  Greek  vase. 

7.  Now,  I  have  done  alike  with  myths  and  traditions;  and 
perhaps  I  had  better  forewarn  yon,  in  order,  what  I  am  next 
coining  to.  For,  after  my  first  delivery  of  this  lecture,  one  of 
my  most  attentive  hearers,  and  best  accustomed  pupils,  told 
me  that  he  had  felt  it  to  be  painfully  unconnected, — with 
much  resultant  difficulty  to  the  hearer  in  following  its  inten- 
tion. This  is  partly  inevitable  when  one  endeavours  to  get 
over  a  great  deal  of  ground  in  an  hour  ;  and  indeed  I  have 
been  obliged,  as  I  fastened,  the  leaves  together,  to  cut  out 
sundry  sentences  of  adaptation  or  transition— and  run  my 


LIVING  WAVES. 


179 


bits  of  train  all  into  one,  without  buffers.  But  the  actual  di- 
visions of  what  I  have  to  say  are  clearly  jointed  for  all  that ; 
and  if  you  like  to  jot  them  down  from  the  leaf  I  have  put 
here  at  my  side  for  my  own  guidance,  these  are  the  heads  of 
them : — 

I.  Introduction— Imaginary  Serpents. 
II.  The  Names  of  Serpents. 

III.  The  Classification  of  Serpents. 

IV.  The  Patterns  of  Serpents. 
V.  The  Motion  of  Serpents. 

VI.  The  Poison  of  Serpents. 
VII.  Caution,  concerning  their  Poison. 
VIII.  The  Wisdom  of  Serpents. 
IX.  Caution,  concerning  their  Wisdom. 

It  is  not  quite  so  bad  as  the  sixteenthly,  seventeenthly,  and 
to  conclude,  of  the  Duke's  chaplain,  to  Major  Dalgetty  ;  but 
you  see  we  have  no  time  to  round  the  corners,  and  must  get 
through  our  work  as  straightly  as  we  may. 

We  have  got  done  already  with  our  first  article,  and  begin 
now  with  the  names  of  serpents  ;  of  which  those  used  in  the 
great  languages,  ancient  and  modern,  are  all  significant,  and 
therefore  instructive,  in  the  highest  degree. 

8.  The  first  and  most  important  is  the  Greek  'ophis,'  from 
which  you  know  the  whole  race  are  called,  by  scientific  people, 
ophidia.  It  means  the  thing  that  sees  all  around  ;  and  Milton 
is  thinking  of  it  wrhen  he  makes  the  serpent,  looking  to  see 
if  Eve  be  assailable,  say  of  himself,  "  Her  husband,  for  I  view 
far  round,  not  near."  Satan  says  that,  mind  you,  in  the  per- 
son of  the  Serpent,  to  whose  faculties,  in  its  form,  he  has  re- 
duced himself.  As  an  angel,  he  would  have  known  whether 
Adam  was  near  or  not :  in  the  serpent,  he  has  to  look  and  see. 
This,  mind  you  further,  however,  is  Miltonic  fancy,  not 
Mosaic  theology ; — it  is  a  poet  and  a  scholar  who  speaks  here, 
— by  no  means  a  prophet. 

9.  Practically,  it  has  never  seemed  to  me  that  a  snake  could 
see  far  round,  out  of  the  slit  in  his  eye,  which  is  drawn  large 


180 


DEUCALION. 


for  you  in  my  diagram  of  the  rattlesnake  ;*  but  either  he  oi 
the  puffadder,  I  have  observed,  seem  to  see  with  the  backs  of 
their  heads  as  well  as  the  fronts,  whenever  I  am  drawing 
them.  You  will  find  the  question  entered  into  at  some  length 
in  my  sixth  lecture  in  the  4 Eagles  Nest'  ;  and  I  endeavoured 
to  find  out  some  particulars  of  which  I  might  have  given  you 
assurance  to-night,  in  my  scientific  books ;  but  though  I 
found  pages  upon  pages  of  description  of  the  scales  and 
wrinkles  about  snakes'  eyes,  I  could  come  at  no  account  what- 
ever of  the  probable  range  or  distinctness  in  the  sight  of 
them  ;  and  though  extreme  pains  had  been  taken  to  exhibit, 
in  sundry  delicate  engravings,  their  lachrymatory  glands  and 
ducts,  I  could  neither  discover  the  occasions  on  which  rattle- 
snakes wept,  nor  under  what  consolations  they  dried  their 
eyes. 

10.  Next  for  the  word  dracon,  or  dragon.  We  are  accus- 
tomed to  think  of  a  dragon  as  a  winged  and  clawed  creature  ; 
but  the  real  Greek  dragon,  Cadmus's  or  Jason's,  was  simply 
a  serpent,  only  a  serpent  of  more  determined  vigilance  than 
the  ophis,  and  guardian  therefore  of  fruit,  fountain,  or  fleece. 
In  that  sense  of  guardianship,  not  as  a  protecter,  but  as  a 
sentinel,  the  name  is  to  be  remembered  as  well  fitted  for  the 
great  Greek  lawgiver. 

The  dragon  of  Christian  legend  is  more  definitely  malig- 
nant, and  no  less  vigilant.  You  will  find  in  Mr.  Anderson's 
supplement  to  my  '  St.  Mark's  Rest,'  "  The  Place  of  Dragons," 
a  perfect  analysis  of  the  translation  of  classic  into  Christian 
tradition  in  this  respect. 

11.  III.  Anguis.  The  strangling  thing,  passing  into  the 
French  '  angoisse '  and  English  '  anguish  ' ;  but  we  have  never 
taken  this  Latin  word  for  our  serpents,  because  we  have  none 
of  the  strangling  or  constrictor  kind  in  Europe.  It  is  always 
used  in  Latin  for  the  most  terrible  forms  of  snake,  and  has 
been,  with  peculiar  infelicity,  given  by  scientific  people  to  the 
most  innocent,  and  especially  to  those  which  can't  strangle 

*  See  the  careful  drawing  of  the  eye  of  Daboia  Rtissellii,  Thanato 


LIVING  WAVES. 


ISl 


anything.  The  1  Anguis  fragilis  '  breaks  like  a  tobacco-pipe  ; 
but  imagine  how  disconcerting  such  an  accident  would  be  to 
a  constrictor ! 

12.  IV.  Coluber,  passing  into  the  French,  \  couleuvre/  a 
grandly  expressive  word.  The  derivation  of  the  Latin  one  is 
uncertain,  but  it  will  be  wise  and  convenient  to  reserve  it  for 
the  expression  of  coiling.  Our  word  'coil/  as  the  French 
'  cueillir,'  is  from  the  Latin  '  colligere,'  to  collect ;  and  we 
shall  presently  see  that  the  way  in  which  a  snake  £  collects  • 
itself  i3  no  less  characteristic  than  the  way  in  which  it  diffuses 
itself. 

13.  V.  Serpens.  The  winding  thing.  This  is  the  great 
word  which  expresses  the  progressive  action  of  a  snake,  dis- 
tinguishing it  from  all  other  animals  ;  or,  so  far  as  modifying 
the  motion  of  others,  making  them  in  that  degree  serpents 
also,  as  the  elongated  species  of  fish  and  lizard.  It  is  the 
principal  object  of  my  lecture  this  evening  to  lay  before  you 
the  law  of  this  action,  although  the  interest  attaching  to  other 
parts  of  my  subject  has  tempted  me  to  enlarge  on  them  so  as 
to  give  them  undue  prominence. 

14.  VI.  Adder.  This  Saxon  word,  the  same  as  nieder  or 
nether,  '  the  grovelling  thing,'  was  at  first  general  for  all  ser- 
pents, as  an  epithet  of  degradation,  *  the  deaf  adder  that  stop- 
peth  her  ears/  Afterwards  it  became  provincial,  and  has 
never  been  accepted  as  a  term  of  science.  In  the  most  schol- 
arly late  English  it  is  nearly  a  synonym  with  6  viper,'  but  that 
word,  said  to  be  a  contraction  for  vivipara,  bringing  forth  the 
young  alive,  is  especially  used  in  the  New  Testament  of  the 
Pharisees,  who  compass  heaven  and  earth  to  make  one  prose- 
lyte. The  Greek  word  used  in  the  same  place,  echidna,  is  of 
doubtful  origin,  but  always  expresses  treachery  joined  with 
malice. 

15.  VII.  Snake.  German,  *  schlange,'  the  crawling  thing  ; 
and  with  some  involved  idea  of  sliminess,  as  in  a  snail.  Of 
late  it  has  become  partly  habitual,  in  ordinary  English,  to  use 
it  for  innocent  species  of  serpents,  as  opposed  to  venomous  ; 
but  it  is  the  strongest  and  best  general  term  for  the  entire 
race  ;  which  race,  in  order  to  define  clearly,  I  must  now  entef 


182 


DEUCALION. 


into  some  particulars  respecting  classification,  which  I  find 
little  announced  in  scientific  books. 

16.  And  here  I  enter  on  the  third  division  of  my  lecture, 
which  must  be  a  disproportionately  long  one,  because  it  in- 
volves the  statement  of  matters  important  in  a  far  wider  scope 
than  any  others  I  have  to  dwell  on  this  evening.  For  although 
it  is  not  necessary  for  any  young  persons,  nor  for  many  old 
ones,  to  know3  even  if  they  can  know,  anything  about  the 
origin  or  development  of  species,  it  is  vitally  necessary  that 
they  should  know  what  a  species  is,  and  much  more  what  a 
genus  or  (a  better  word)  gens,  a  race,  of  animals  is. 

17.  A  gens,  race,  or  kinship,  of  animals,  means,  in  the  truth 
of  it,  a  group  which  can  do  some  special  thing  nobly  and  well. 
And  there  are  always  varieties  of  the  race  which  do  it  in  dif- 
ferent styles, — an  eagle  flies  in  one  style,  a  windhover  in 
another,  but  both  gloriously, — they  are  ' Gentiles' — gentle- 
men creatures,  well  born  and  bred.  So  a  trout  belongs  to  the 
true  race,  or  gens,  of  fish :  he  can  swim  perfectly ;  so  can  a 
dolphin,  so  can  a  mackerel :  they  swim  in  different  styles  in- 
deed, but  they  belong  to  the  true  kinship  of  swimming 
creatures. 

18.  Now  between  the  gentes,  or  races,  and  between  the 
species,  or  families,  there  are  invariably  links — mongrel  creat- 
ures, neither  one  thing  nor  another, — but  clumsy,  blunder- 
ing, hobbling,  misshapen  things.  You  are  always  thankful 
when  you  see  one  that  you  are  not  it.  They  are,  according  to 
old  philosophy,  in  no  process  of  development  up  or  down, 
but  are  necessary,  though  much  pitiable,  where  they  are. 
Thus  between  the  eagle  and  the  trout,  the  mongrel  or  need- 
ful link  is  the  penguin.  Well,  if  you  ever  saw  an  eagle  or  a 
windhover  flying,  I  am  sure  you  must  have  sometimes  wished 
to  be  a  windhover  ;  and  if  ever  you  saw  a  trout  or  a  dolphin, 
swimming,  I  am  sure,  if  it  was  a  hot  day,  you  wished  you 
could  be  a  trout.  But  did  ever  anybody  wish  to  be  a 
penguin  ? 

So,  again,  a  swallow  is  a  perfect  creature  of  a  true  gens ; 
and  a  field-mouse  is  a  perfect  creature  of  a  true  gens  ;  and 
between  the  two  you  have  an  accurate  mongrel— the  bat 


LIVING  WAVES. 


183 


Well,  surely  some  of  you  have  wished,  as  you  saw  them  glanc- 
ing and  dipping  over  lake  or  stream,  that  you  could  for  half 
an  hour  be  a  swallow  :  there  have  been  humble  times  with 
myself  when  I  could  have  envied  a  field-mouse.  But  did  ever 
anybody  wish  to  be  a  bat  ? 

19.  And  don't  suppose  that  you  can  invert  the  places  of  the 
creatures,  and  make  the  gentleman  of  the  penguin,  and  the 
mongrel  of  the  windhover, — the  gentleman  of  the  bat,  and 
mongrel  of  the  swallow.  All  these  living  forms,  and  the  laws 
that  rule  them,  are  parables,  when  once  you  can  read  ;  but 
you  can  only  read  them  through  love,  and  the  sense  of 
beauty  ;  and  some  day  I  hope  to  plead  with  you  a  little,  of  the 
value  of  that  sense,  and  the  way  you  have  been  lately  losing- 
it.  But  as  things  are,  often  the  best  way  of  explaining  the 
nature  of  any  one  creature  is  to  point  out  the  other  creatures 
with  whom  it  is  connected,  through  some  intermediate  form 
of  degradation.  There  are  almost  always  two  or  three,  or 
more,  connected  gentes,  and  between  each,  some  peculiar 
manner  of  decline  and  of  reascent.  Thus,  you  heard  Professor 
Huxley  explain  to  you  that  the  true  snakes  were  connected 
with  the  lizards  through  helpless  snakes,  that  break  like  with- 
ered branches  ;  and  sightless  lizards,  that  have  no  need  for 
eyes  or  legs.  But  there  are  three  other  great  races  of  life, 
with  which  snakes  are  connected  in  other  and  in  yet  more  mar- 
vellous ways.  And  I  do  not  doubt  being  able  to  show  you, 
this  afternoon,  the  four  quarters,  or,  as  astrologers  would  say, 
the  four  houses,  of  the  horizon  of  serpent  development,  in  the 
modern  view,  or  serpent  relation,  in  the  ancient  one.  In  the 
first  quarter,  or  house,  of  his  nativity,  a  serpent  is,  as  Profess- 
or Huxley  showed  you,  a  lizard  that  has  dropped  his  legs  off. 
But  in  the  second  quarter,  or  house,  of  his  nativity,  I  shall 
show  you  that  he  is  also  a  duck  that  has  dropped  her  wings 
off.  In  the  third  quarter,  I  shall  show  you  that  he  is  a  iish 
that  has  dropped  his  fins  off.  And  in  the  fourth  quarter  of 
ascent,  or  descent,  whichever  you  esteem  it,  that  a  serpent  is 
a  honeysuckle,  with  a  head  put  on. 

20.  The  lacertine  relations  having  been  explained  to  you  in 
*the  preceding  lecture  by  Professor  Huxley,  I  begin  this  even- 


184 


DEUCALION. 


ing  with  the  Duck.  I  might  more  easily,  and  yet  more  sur- 
prisingly, begin  with  the  Dove  ;  but  for  time-saving  must 
leave  your  own  imaginations  to  trace  the  transition,  easy  as 
you  may  think  it,  from  the  coo  to  the  quack,  and  from  the 
walk  to  the  waddle.  Yet  that  is  very  nearly  one-half  the  jour- 
ney. The  bird  is  essentially  a  singing  creature,  as  a  serpent 
is  a  mute  one  ;  the  bird  is  essentially  a  creature  singing  for 
love,  as  a  puffadder  is  one  puffing  for  anger  ;  and  in  the 
descent  from  the  sound  which  fills  that  verse  of  Solomon's 
Song,  "  The  time  of  the  singing  of  birds  is  come,  and  the 
voice  of  the  turtle  is  heard  in  our  land,"  to  the  recollection  of 
the  last  flock  of  ducks  which  you  saw  disturbed  in  a  ditch,  ex- 
pressing their  dissatisfaction  in  that  peculiar  monosyllable 
which  from  its  senselessness  has  become  the  English  expres- 
sion for  foolish  talk,*  you  have  actually  got  down  half-way  ; 
and  in  the  next  flock  of  geese  whom  you  discompose,  might 
imagine  at  first  you  had  got  the  whole  way,  from  the  lark's 
song  to  the  serpent's  hiss. 

21.  But  observe,  there  is  a  variety  of  instrumentation  in 
hisses.  Most  people  fancy  the  goose,  the  snake,  and  we  our- 
selves, are  alike  in  the  manner  of  that  peculiar  expression  of 
opinion.  But  not  at  all.  Our  own  hiss,  whether  the  useful 
and  practical  ostler's  in  rubbing  down  his  horse,  or  that  om- 
nipotent one  which — please  do  not  try  on  me  just  now ! — are 
produced  by  the  pressure  of  our  soft  round  tongues  against 
our  teeth.  But  neither  the  goose  nor  snake  can  hiss  that 
way,  for  a  goose  has  got  no  teeth,  to  speak  of,  and  a  serpent 
no  tongue,  to  speak  of.  The  sound  which  imitates  so  closely 
our  lingual  hiss  is  with  them  only  a  vicious  and  vindictive 
sigh, — the  general  disgust  which  the  creature  feels  at  the 
sight  of  us  expressed  in  a  gasp.  Why  do  you  suppose  the 
puffadder  is  called  puffy ?  f  Simply  because  he  swells  himself 
up  to  hiss,  just  as  Sir  Gorgius  Midas  might  do  to  scold  his 
footmen,  and  then  actually  and  literally  'expires*  with  rage, 

*  The  substantive  1  quack  '  in  its  origin  means  a  person  who  quacks, 
■ — i.e.,  talks  senselessly;  see  Johnson. 

f  In  more  graceful  Indian  metaphor,  the  4  Father  of  Tumefaction. 
(Note  from  a  friend.) 


LIVING  WAVES. 


185 


sending  all  the  air  in  bis  body  out  at  you  in  a  biss.  In  a 
quieter  way,  the  drake  and  gander  do  the  same  thing  ;  and 
we  ourselves  do  the  same  thing  under  nobler  conditions,  of 
which  presently. 

22.  But  now,  here's  the  first  thing,  it  seems  to  me,  we've 
got  to  ask  of  the  scientific  people,  what  use  a  serpent  has  for 
his  tongue,  since  it  neither  wants  it  to  talk  with,  to  taste  with, 
to  hiss  with,  nor,  so  far  as  I  know,  to  lick  with,*  and  least  of 
all  to  sting  with,- — and  yet,  for  people  who  do  not  know  the 
creature,  the  little  vibrating  forked  thread,  flashed  out  of  its 
mouth,  and  back  again,  as  quick  as  lightening,  is  the  most 
threatening  part  of  the  beast ;  but  what  is  the  use  of  it  ? 
Nearly  every  other  creature  but  a  snake  can  do  all  sorts  of 
mischief  with  its  tongue.  A  woman  worries  with  it,  a  cha- 
meleon catches  flies  with  it,  a  snail  files  away  fruit  with  it,  a 
hummingbird  steals  honey  with  it,  a  cat  steals  milk  with  it,  a 
pholas  digs  holes  in  rocks  with  it,  and  a  gnat  digs  holes  in  us 
with  it  ;  but  the  poor  snake  cannot  do  any  manner  of  harm 
with  it  whatsoever  ;  and  what  is  his  tongue  forked  for  ? 

23.  I  must  leave  you  to  find  out  that  at  your  leisure  ;  and 
to  enter  at  your  pleasure  into  the  relative  anatomical  questions 
respecting  forms  of  palate,  larynx,  and  lung,  in  the  dove,  the 
swan,  the  goose,  and  the  adder, — not  unaccompanied  by  ser- 
pentine extension  and  action  in  the  necks  of  the  hissing  birds, 
which  show  you  what,  so  to  speak,  Nature  is  thinking  of. 
These  mechanical  questions  are  all — leather  and  prunella,  or 
leather  and  catgut ; — the  moral  descent  of  the  temper  and 
meaning  in  the  sound,  from  a  murmur  of  affection  to  a  gasp 
of  fury,  is  the  real  transition  of  the  creature's  being.  You 
will  find  in  Kinglake's  account  of  the  charge  of  the  Grays  in 
the  battle  of  Balaclava,  accurate  record  of  the  human  murmur 
of  long-restrained  rage,  at  last  let  loose  ;  and  may  reflect,  also 
at  your  leisure,  on  the  modes  of  political  development  which 
change  a  kindly  Scot  into  a  fiery  dragon. 

24.  So  far  of  the  fall  of  the  bird-angels  from  song  to  hiss  : 

*  I  will  not  take  on  me  to  contradict,  but  I  don't  in  the  least  believe, 
any  of  the  statements  about  serpents  licking  their  prey  before  they 
swallow  it. 


ISO 


DEUCALIOSr. 


next  consider  for  a  minute  or  two  the  second  phase  of  catas* 
trophe — from  walk  to  waddle.  Walk,— or,  in  prettier  creatures 
still,  the  run.  Think  what  a  descent  it  is,  from  the  pace  of 
the  lapwing,  like  a  pretty  lady's, — "  Look,  where  Beatrice,  like 
a  lapwing,  runs  ; "  or  of  the  cream-coloured  courser  *  of  the 
African  desert,  whom  you  might  yourselves  see  run,  on  your 
own  downs,  like  a  little  racehorse,  if  you  didn't  shoot  it  the 
moment  it  alighted  there, — to  the  respectable,  but,  to  say  the 
least,  unimpressive,  gait  from  which  we  have  coined  the  useful 
word  to  '  wTaddle.'  Can  you  remember  exactly  how  a  duck 
does  walk  ?  You  can  best  fancy  it  by  conceiving  the  body  of 
a  large  barrel  carried  forward  on  two  short  legs,  and  rolling 
alternately  to  each  side  at  every  step.  Once  watch  this 
method  of  motion  attentively,  and  you  will  soon  feel  how  near 
you  are  to  dispensing  with  legs  altogether,  and  getting  the 
barrel  to  roll  along  by  itself  in  a  succession  of  zigzags. 

25.  Now,  put  the  duck  well  under  water,  and  he  does  dis- 
pense with  his  legs  altogether. 

There  is  a  bird  who — my  good  friend,  and  boat-builder, 
Mr.  Bell,  tells  me — once  lived  on  Coniston  Water,  and  some- 
times visits  it  yet,  called  the  saw-bill  duck,  who  is  the  link,  on 
the  ducky  side,  between  the  ducks  and  divers :  his  shape  on 
the  whole  is  a  duck's,  but  his  habits  are  a  diver's, — that  is  to 
say,  he  lives  on  fish,  and  he  catches  them  deep  under  water- 
swimming,  under  the  surface,  a  hundred  yards  at  a  time. 

26.  WTe  do  not  at  all  enough  dwell  upon  this  faculty  in 
aquatic  birds.  Their  feet  are  only  for  rowing — not  for  diving. 
Those  little  membranous  paddles  are  no  use  whatever,  once 
under  water.  The  bird's  full  strength  must  be  used  in  div- 
ing :  he  dives  with  his  wings — literally  flies  under  water  with 
his  wings  ; — the  great  northern  diver,  at  a  pace  which  a  well- 
manned  boat  can't  keep  up  with.  The  stroke  for  progress,  ob- 
serve, is  the  same  as  in  the  air  ;  only  in  flying  under  water,  the 
bird  has  to  keep  himself  down,  instead  of  keeping  himself  up, 
and  strikes  up  with  the  wing  instead  of  down.  Well,  the  great 
divers  hawk  at  fish  this  way,  and  become  themselves  fish,  or 
saurians,  the  wings  acting  for  the  time  as  true  fins,  or  paddles 

*  Cursorius  isabellinus  (Meyer),  Gallicus  (Gould). 


LIVING  WAVES. 


187 


And  at  the  same  time,  observe,  the  head  takes  the  shape,  and 
receives  the  weapons,  of  the  fish-eating  lizard. 

Magnified  in  the  diagram  to  the  same  scale,  this  head  of  the 
saw-bill  duck  (No.  5)  is  no  less  terrible  than  that  of  the  gavial, 
or  fish-eating  crocodile  of  the  Ganges.  The  gavial  passes,  by 
the  mere  widening  of  the  bones  of  his  beak,  into  the  true 
crocodile, — the  crocodile  into  the  serpentine  lizard.  I  drop 
my  duck's  wings  off  through  the  penguin  ;  and  its  beak  being 
now  a  saurian's,  I  have  only  to  ask  Professor  Huxley  to  get 
rid  of  its  feet  for  me,  and  my  line  of  descent  is  unbroken,  from 
the  dove  to  the  cobra,  except  at  the  one  point  of  the  gift  of 
poison. 

27.  An  important  point,  you  say  ?  Yes  ;  but  one  which  the 
anatomists  take  small  note  of.  Legs,  or  no  legs,  are  by  no 
means  the  chief  criterion  of  lizard  from  snake.  Poison,  or  no 
poison,  is  a  far  more  serious  one.  Why  should  the  mere  fact 
of  being  quadruped,  make  the  creature  chemically  innocent  ? 
Yet  no  lizard  has  ever  been  recognized  as  venomous. 

28.  A  less  trenchant,  yet  equally  singular,  law  of  distinc- 
tion is  found  in  the  next  line  of  relationship  we  have  to  learn, 
that  of  serpents  with  fish. 

The  first  quite  sweeping  division  of  the  whole  serpent  race  is 
into  water  serpents  and  land  serpents.*  A  large  number,  in- 
deed, like  damp  places  ;  and  I  suppose  all  serpents  who  ever 
saw  water  can  swim  ;  but  still  fix  in  your  minds  the  intense  and 
broad  distinction  between  the  sand  asp,  which  is  so  fond  of  heat 
that  if  you  light  a  real  fire  near  him  he  will  instantly  wriggle 
up  to  it  and  burn  himself  to  death  in  the  ashes,  and  the  water 
hydra,  who  lives  in  the  open,  often  in  the  deep  sea,  and 

*  Br.  Gunther's  division  of  serpents,  ('  Reptiles  of  British  India,'  p. 
166,)  the  most  rational  I  ever  saw  in  a  scientific  book,  is  into  five  main 
kinds  :  burrowing  snakes,  ground  snakes,  and  tree  snakes,  on  the  land ; 
and  fresh-water  snakes  and  sea  snakes,  in  the  water. 

All  the  water  snakes  are  viviparous  ;  and  I  believe  all  the  salt-water 
ones  venomous.  Of  the  fresh-water  snakes,  Dr.  Gunther  strongly  says, 
l<  none  are  venomous,"  to  my  much  surprise  ;  for  I  have  an  ugly  recol- 
lection of  the  black  river  viper  in  the  Zoological  Gardens,  and  am 
nearly  certain  that  Humboldt  speaks  of  some  of  the  water  serpents  of 
Brazil  as  dangerous. 


188 


DEUCALION. 


though  just  as  venomous  as  the  little  fiery  wretch,  has  the 

bo(fy  flattened  vertically  at  the  tail  so  as  to  swim  exactly  as 
eels  do. 

29.  Not  that  I  am  quite  sure  that  even  those  who  go  often- 
est  to  Eel  Pie  Island  quite  know  how  eels  do  swim,  and  still 
less  how  they  walk  ;  nor,  though  I  have  myself  seen  them 
doing  it,  can  I  tell  you  how  they  manage  it.  Nothing  in  ani- 
mal instinct  or  movement  is  more  curious  than  the  way  young 
eels  get  up  beside  the  waterfalls  of  the  Highland  streams. 
They  get  first  into  the  jets  of  foam  at  the  edge,  to  be  thrown 
ashore  by  them,  and  then  wriggle  up  the  smooth  rocks — 
heaven  knows  how.  If  you  like,  any  of  you,  to  put  on  greased 
sacks,  with  your  arms  tied  down  inside,  and  your  feet  tied 
together,  and  then  try  to  wriggle  up  after  them  on  rocks  as 
smooth  as  glass,  I  think  even  the  skilfulest  members  of  the 
Alpine  Club  will  agree  with  me  as  to  the  difficulty  of  the 
feat ;  and  though  I  have  watched  them  at  it  for  hours,  I  do 
not  know  how  much  of  serpent,  and  how  much  of  fish,  is  min- 
gled in  the  motion.  But  observe,  at  all  events,  there  is  no 
walking  here  on  the  plates  of  the  belly :  whatever  motion  is 
got  at  all,  is  by  undulation  of  body  and  lash  of  tail :  so  far  as 
by  undulation  of  body,  serpentine  ;  so  far  as  by  lash  of  tail,  fishy. 

30.  But  the  serpent  is  in  a  more  intimate  sense  still,  a  fish 
that  has  dropped  its  fins  off.  All  fish  poison  is  in  the  fins  or 
tail,  not  in  the  mouth.  There  are  no  venomous  sharks,  no 
fanged  pikes  ;  but  one  of  the  loveliest  fishes  of  the  south 
coast,  and  daintiest  too  when  boiled,  is  so  venomous  in  the 
fin,  that  when  I  was  going  eagerly  to  take  the  first  up  that 
came  on  the  fishing-boat's  deck  with  the  mackerel  line,  in  my 
first  day  of  mackerel  fishing,  the  French  pilot  who  was  with 
me  caught  hold  of  my  arm  as  eagerly  as  if  I  had  been  going 
to  lay  hold  of  a  viper. 

Of  the  common  medusa,  and  of  the  sting  ray,  you  know 
probably  more  than  I  do  :  but  have  any  of  us  enough  con- 
sidered this  curious  fact ;  (have  any  of  you  seen  it  stated 
clearly  in  any  book  of  natural  history?)  that  throughout  the 
whole  fish  race, — which,  broadly  speaking,  pass  the  whole  of 
their  existence  in  one  continual  gobble, — you  never  find  any 


LIVING  WAVES. 


189 


poison  put  into  the  teeth  ;  and  throughout  the  whole  serpent- 
race,  never  any  poison  put  into  the  horns,  tail,  scales,  or  skin  ? 

31.  Besides  this,  I  believe  the  aquatic  poisons  are  for  the 
most  part  black  ;  serpent  poison  invariably  white  ;  and,  finally, 
that  fish  poison  is  only  like  that  of  bees  or  nettles,  numbing 
and  irritating,  but  not  deadly  ;  but  that  the  moment  the  fish 
passes  into  the  hydra,  and  the  poison  comes  through  the  teeth, 
the  bite  is  mortal.  In  these  senses,  and  in  many  others, 
(which  I  could  only  trace  by  showing  you  the  undulatory 
motion  of  fins  in  the  seahorse,  and  of  body  in  the  sole,)  the 
serpent  is  a  fish  without  fins. 

32.  Now,  thirdly,  I  said  that  a  serpent  was  a  honeysuckle 
with  a  head  put  on.  You  perhaps  thought  I  was  jesting  ; 
but  nothing  is  more  mysterious  in  the  compass  of  creation  than 
the  relation  of  flowers  to  the  serpent  tribe, — not  only  in  those 
to  which,  in  '  Proserpina/  I  have  given  the  name  Draconidse, 
and  in  which  there  is  recognized  resemblance  in  their  popular 
name,  Snapdragon,  (as  also  in  the  speckling  of  the  Snake's- 
head  Fritillary,)  but  much  more  in  those  carnivorous,  insect- 
eating,  and  monstrous,  insect-begotten,  structures,  to  which 
your  attention  may  perhaps  iiave  been  recently  directed  by  the 
clever  caricature  of  the  possible  effects  of  electric  light,  which 
appeared  lately  in  the  '  Daily  Telegraph.'  But,  seven  hundred 
years  ago,  to  the  Florentine,  and  three  thousand  years  ago,  to 
the  Egyptian  and  the  Greek,  the  mystery  of  that  bond  was  told 
in  the  dedication  of  the  ivy  to  Dionysus,  and  of  the  dragon  to 
Triptolemus.  Giotto,  in  the  lovely  design  which  is  to-night 
the  only  relief  to  your  eyes,  thought  the  story  of  temptation 
enough  symbolized  by  the  spray  of  ivy  round  the  hazel 
trunk ;  and  I  have  substituted,  in  my  definition,  the  honey- 
suckle for  the  ivy,  because,  in  the  most  accurate  sense,  the 
honeysuckle  is  an  6  anguis  ' — a  strangling  thing.  The  ivy  stem 
increases  with  age,  without  compressing  the  tree  trunk,  any 
more  than  the  rock,  that  it  adorns  ;  but  the  woodbine  retains, 
to  a  degree  not  yet  measured,  but  almost,  I  believe,  after  a 
certain  time,  unchanged,  the  first  scope  of  its  narrow  con- 
tortion ;  and  the  growing  wood  of  the  stem  it  has  seized  is 
contorted  with  it,  and  at  last  paralyzed  and  killed. 


190 


DEUCALION. 


That  there  is  any  essential  difference  in  the  spirit  of  life 
which  gives  power  to  the  tormenting  tendrils,  from  that 
which  animates  the  strangling  coils,  your  recent  philosophy 
denies,  and  I  do  not  take  upon  me  to  assert.  The  serpent  is 
a  honeysuckle  *  with  a  head  put  on  ;  and  perhaps  some  day, 
in  the  zenith  of  development,  you  may  see  a  honeysuckle 
getting  so  much  done  for  it. 

33.  It  is,  however,  more  than  time  for  me  now  to  ap- 
proach the  main  parts  of  our  subject,  the  characteristics  of 
perfect  serpent  nature  in  pattern,  motion,  and  poison.  First, 
the  pattern — i.e.,  of  their  colours,  and  the  arranged  masses  of 
them.  That,  the  scientific  people  always  seem  to  think  a 
matter  of  no  consequence  ;  but  to  practical  persons  like  me, 
it  is  often  of  very  primal  consequence  to  know  a  viper  when 
they  see  it,  which  they  can't  conveniently,  except  by  the  pat- 
tern. The  scientific  people  count  the  number  of  scales  be- 
tween its  eyes  and  its  nose,  and  inform  you  duly  of  the 
amount  ;  but  then  a  real  viper  won't  stand  still  for  you  to 
count  the  scales  between  his  eyes  and  his  nose  ;  whereas  you 
can  see  at  a  glance,  what  to  us  Londoners,  at  least,  should 
surely  be  an  interesting  fact — that  it  has  a  pretty  letter  H  on 
the  top  of  its  head  (Diag.  No.  6).  I  am  a  true  Cockney  my- 
self,— born  within  ring  of  Bow  ;  and  it  is  impressive  to  me 
thus  to  see  such  a  development  of  our  dropped  Hs.  Then, 
the  wavy  zigzag  down  the  back,  with  the  lateral  spots — one 
to  each  bend,  are  again  unmistakable  ;  and  a  pretty  general 
type  of  the  kind  of  pattern  which  makes  the  poets  and  the 
story-tellers,  when  they  need  one  epithet  only,  speak  always 
of  the  Spotted  snake.'  Not  but  that  a  thrush  or  a  wood- 
pecker are  much  more  spotty  than  any  snakes,  only  they're  a 
great  deal  more  than  that,  while  the  snake  can  often  only  be 
known  from  the  gravel  he  lies  on  by  the  comparative  sym- 
metry of  his  spots. 

34.  But,  whether  spotted,  zigzagged,  or  blotched  with  re- 

*  Farther  note  was  here  taken  of  the  action  of  the  blossoms  of  the 
cranberry,  myrtilla  regina,  etc.,  for  more  detailed  account  of  which 
(useless  in  this  place  without  the  diagram)  the  reader  is  referred  to 
the  sixth  number  of  1  Proserpina. ' 


LIVING  WAVES. 


191 


ticulated  stains,  this,  please  observe,  is  constant  in  their  col- 
ours :  they  are  always,  in  the  deadly  serpents,  lurid,  or  dull. 

The  fatal  serpents  are  all  of  the  French  school  of  art, — 
French  grey  ;  the  throat  of  the  asp,  French  blue,  the  bright- 
est thing  I  know  in  the  deadly  snakes.  The  rest  are  all 
gravel  colour,  mud  colour,  blue-pill  colour,  or  in  general,  as  I 
say,  French  high-art  colour.  You  will  find  this  pointed  out 
long  ago  in  one  of  the  most  important  chapters  of  *  Modern 
Painters,'  and  I  need  not  dwell  upon  it  now,  except  just  to 
ask  you  to  observe,  not  only  that  puffadders  and  rattlesnakes 
have  no  resemblance  to  tulips  and  roses,  but  that  they  never 
have  even  the  variegated  greens  and  blues  of  mackerel,  or  the 
pinks  and  crimsons  of  the  char  or  trout.  Fancy  the  difference 
it  would  make  in  our  general  conception  of  creation,  if  pea- 
cocks had  grey  tails,  and  serpents  golden  and  blue  ones ;  or 
if  cocks  had  only  black  spectacles  on  their  shoulders,  and 
cobras  red  combs  on  their  heads, — if  hummingbirds  flew  in 
suits  of  black,  and  water- vipers  swam  in  amethyst !  * 

35.  I  come  now  to  the  fifth,  midmost,  and  chiefly  important 
section  of  my  subject,  namely,  the  manner  of  motion  in  ser- 
pents. They  are  distinguished  from  all  other  creatures  by 
that  motion,  which  I  tried  to  describe  the  terror  of,  in  the 
*  Queen  of  the  Air' — calling  the  Serpent  "a  wave  without  wind, 
— a  current, — but  with  no  fall."  A  snail  and  a  worm  go  on 
their  bellies  as  much  as  a  serpent,  but  the  essential  motion  o! 
a  serpent  is  undulation, — not  up  and  down,  but  from  side  to 

*  Had  I  possessed  the  beautiful  volume  of  the  Thauatophidia,  above 
referred  to,  before  giving  my  lecture,  I  should  have  quoted  from  it  the 
instance  of  one  water-viper,  Hydrophis  nigrocincta  (q.  purpureocincta  ?), 
who  does  swim  in  amethyst,  if  the  colouring  of  the  plate  may  be  trusted, 
rather  than  the  epithet  of  its  name.  I  should  also  have  recommended 
to  especial  admiration  the  finishing  of  the  angular  spots  in  Dr.  Shortfs 
exquisite  drawing  of  Hypnale  Nepa. 

Mr.  Alfred  Tylor,  on  the  evening  when  I  last  lectured,  himself  laid 
before  the  Zoological  Society,  for  the  first  time,  the  theory  of  relation 
between  the  vertebras  and  the  succession  of  dorsal  bars  or  spots,  which 
I  shall  be  rejoiced  if  he  is  able  to  establish  ;  but  I  am  quite  ready  to 
accept  it  on  his  authority,  without  going  myself  into  any  work  on  the 
bones. 


192 


DEUCALION. 


side  ;  and  the  first  thing  you  have  got  to  ask  about  it,  is,  why 
it  goes  from  side  to  side.  Those  who  attended  carefully  to 
Professor  Huxley's  lecture,  do  not  need  to  be  again  told  that 
the  bones  of  its  spine  alloiv  it  to  do  so  ;  but  you  were  not  then 
told,  nor  does  any  scientific  book  that  I  know,  tell  you,  why 
it  needs  to  do  so.  Why  should  not  it  go  straight  the  shortest 
way?  Why,  even  when  most  frightened  and  most  in  a  hurry, 
does  it  wriggle  across  the  road,  or  through  the  grass,  with  that 
special  action  from  which  you  have  named  your  twisting  lake 
in  Hyde  Park,  and  all  other  serpentine  things  ?  That  is  the 
first  thing  you  have  to  ask  about  it,  and  it  never  has  been 
asked  yet,  distinctly. 

36.  Supposing  that  the  ordinary  impression  were  true,  that 
it  thrusts  itself  forward  by  the  alternate  advance  and  thrust- 
backward  of  the  plates  of  its  belly,  there  is  no  reason  why  it 
should  not  go  straight  as  a  centipede  does,  or  the  more  terrific 
scarlet  centipede  or  millepede, — a  regiment  of  soldiers.  I 
was  myself  long  under  the  impression,  gathered  from  scientific 
books,  that  it  moved  in  this  manner,  or  as  this  wTise  Natural 
History  of  Cuvier  puts  it,  "  by  true  reptation  ; "  *  but,  how- 
ever many  legs  a  regiment  or  a  centipede  may  possess,  neither 
body  of  them  can  move  faster  than  an  individual  pair  of  legs 
can, — their  hundred  or  thousand  feet  being  each  capable  of 
only  one  step  at  a  time  ;  and,  with  that  allowance,  only  a  cer- 
tain proportion  of  pace  is  possible,  and  the  utmost  rapidity  of 
the  most  active  spider,  or  centipede,  does  not  for  an  instant 
equal  the  dash  of  a  snake  in  full  power.  But  you — nearly  all 
of  you,  I  fancy — have  learned,  during  the  sharp  frosts  of  the 
last  winters,  the  real  secret  of  it,  and  will  recognize  in  a  mo- 
ment what  the  motion  is,  and  only  can  be,  when  I  show  you 
the  real  rate  of  it.  It  is  not  often  that  you  can  see  a  snake  in 
a  hurry,  for  he  generally  withdraws  subtly  and  quietly,  even 

f  It  cannot  be  too  often  pointed  out  how  much  would  be  gained  by 
merely  insisting  on  scientific  books  being  written  in  plain  English.  If 
only  this  writer  had  been  forbidden  to  use  the  word  4  repo'  for  k  crawl,' 
and  to  write,  therefore,  that  serpents  were  crawling  creatures,  who 
moved  by  true  crawlation, — his  readers  would  have  seen  exactly  how 
far  he  and  they  had  got. 


LIVING  WAVES. 


193 


when  distinctly  seen ;  but  if  you  put  him  to  his  pace  either 
by  fear  or  anger,  you  will  find  it  is  the  sweep  of  the  outsiiio 
edge  in  skating,  carried  along  the  whole  body, — that  is  to  say, 
three  or  four  times  over.  Outside  or  inside  edge  does  not, 
however,  I  suppose,  matter  to  the  snake,  the  fulcrum  being- 
according  to  the  lie  of  the  ground,  on  the  concave  or  convex 
side  of  the  curve,  and  the  whole  strength  of  the  bod}'  is  alive 
in  the  alternate  curves  of  it. 

37.  This  splendid  action,  however,  you  must  observe,  can 
hardly  ever  be  seen  when  the  snake  is  in  confinement.  Half 
a  second  would  take  him  twice  the  length  of  his  cage  ;  and 
the  sluggish  movement  which  you  see  there,  is  scarcely  ever 
more  than  the  muscular  extension  of  himself  out  of  his  •  col- 
lected' coil  into  a  more  or  less  straight  line  ;  which  is  an 
action  imitable  at  once  with  a  coil  of  rope.  You  see  that  one- 
half  of  it  can  move  anywhere  without  stirring  the  other  ;  and 
accordingly  you  may  see  a  foot  or  two  of  a  large  snake  s  body 
moving  one  way,  and  another  foot  or  two  moving  the  other 
way,  and  a  bit  between  not  moving  at  all  ;  which  I,  altogether, 
think  we  may  specifically  call  '  Parliamentary !  motion ;  but 
this  has  nothing  in  common  with  the  gliding  and  truly  ser- 
pentine power  of  the  animal  when  it  exerts  itself. 

38.  (Thus  far,  I  stated  the  matter  in  my  lecture,  apologizing 
at  the  same  time  for  the  incompleteness  of  demonstration 
which,  to  be  convincing,  would  have  taken  me  the  full  hour  of  - 
granted  attention,  and  perhaps  with  small  entertainment  to 
most  of  my  hearers.  But,  for  once,  I  care  somewhat  to  estab- 
lish my  own  claim  to  have  first  described  serpent  motion,  just 
as  I  have  cared  much  to  establish  Forbes's  claim  to  have  first 
discerned  the  laws  of  glacier  flow  ;  and  I  allow  myself,  there- 
fore, here,  a  few  added  words  of  clearer  definition. 

39.  "When  languidly  moving  in  its  cage,  (or  stealthily  when 
at  liberty,)  a  serpent  may  continually  be  seen  to  hitch  or  catch 
one  part  of  its  body  by  the  edge  of  the  scales  against  the 
ground,  and  from  the  fulcrum  of  that  fixed  piece  extend  other 
parts  or  coils  in  various  directions.  But  this  is  not  the  move- 
ment of  progress.  When  a  serpent  is  once  in  full  pace,  every 
part  of  its  body  moves  with  equal  velocity ;  and  the  whole  in 


194 


DEUCALION. 


a  series  of  waves,  varied  only  in  sweep  in  proportion  to  tha 
thickness  of  the  trunk.  No  part  is  straightened — no  part  ex- 
tended— no  part  stationary.  Fast  as  the  head  advances,  the 
tail  follows,  and  between  both — at  the  same  rate — every  point 
of  the  body.  And  the  impulse  of  that  body  bears  it  against, 
and  is  progressively  resilient  from,  the  ground  at  the  edge  of 
each  wave,  exactly  as  the  blade  of  the  oar  in  sculling  a  boat  is 
progressively  resilient  from  the  water.  In  swimming,  the 
action  is  seen  in  water  itself,  and  is  partially  imitated  also  by 
fish  in  the  lash  of  the  tail.  I  do  not  attempt  to  analyze  the 
direction  of  power  and  thrust  in  the  organic  structure,  because 
I  believe,  without  very  high  mathematics,  it  cannot  be  done 
even  for  the  inorganic  momentum  of  a  stream,  how  much  less 
for  the  distributed  volition  of  muscle,  which  applies  the  thrust 
at  the  exact  point  of  the  living  wave  where  it  will  give  most 
forwarding  power. 

I  am  not  sure  how  far  the  water  serpents  may  sometimes 
use  vertical  instead  of  lateral  undulation  ;  but  their  tails  are 
I  believe  always  vertically  flattened,  implying  only  lateral  oar- 
stroke.  My  friend  Mr.  Henry  Severn,  however,  on  one  occa- 
sion saw  a  large  fresh- water  serpent  swimming  in  vertically 
sinuous  folds,  with  its  head  raised  high  above  the  surface,  and 
making  the  water  foam  at  its  breast,  just  as  a  swan  would.) 

40.  Adding  thus  much  to  what  I  said  of  snake  action,  I  find 
-  myself  enabled  to  withdraw,  as  unnecessary,  the  question 
urged,  in  the  next  division  of  the  lecture,  as  to  the  actual  pain 
inflicted  by  snakebite,  by  the  following  letter,*  since  received 
on  the  subject,  from  Mr.  Arthur  Nicols  : — 

*  A  series  of  most  interesting  papers,  by  Mr.  Nicols,  already  pub- 
lished in  1  The  Country,'  and  reprinted  in  '  Chapters  from  the  Physical 
History  of  the  Earth,' (Kegan,  Paul,  &  Co.),  may  be  consulted  on  all  the 
points  of  chiefly  terrible  interest  in  serpent  life.  I  have  also  a  most 
valuable  letter  describing  the  utter  faintness  and  prostration,  without 
serious  pain,  caused  by  the  bite  of  the  English  adder,  from  Mr.  Speddiug 
Cur  wen,  adding  the  following  very  interesting  notes.  u  The  action  was, 
and,  so  far  as  I  have  seen,  always  is,  a  distinct  hammer-like  stroke  of 
the  head  and  neck,  with  the  jaw  wide  open.  In  the  particular  case  in 
question,  my  brother  had  the  adder  hanging  by  the  tail  between  his 
finger  and  thumb,  and  was  lowering  it  gradually  into  our  botany-box 


LIVING  WAVES. 


195 


"  With  respect  to  your  remark  that  there  are  no  descrip- 
tions of  the  sensation  produced  by  snake-poison,  in  the  nature 
of  things,  direct  evidence  of  this  kind  is  not  easy  to  get  ;  for, 
in  the  first  place,  the  sufferer  is  very  soon  past  the  power  of 
describing  the  sensations  ;  and,  in  the  second,  but  a  minute 
fraction  of  those  who  are  killed  by  snakes  in  India  come  under 
the  hands  of  medical  men.  A  person  of  the  better  class,  too, 
is  rarely  bitten  fatally.  The  sufferers  are  those  who  go  about 
with  naked  feet,  and  handle  wood,  and  whose  work  generally 
brings  them  into  contact  with  snakes. 

"  A  friend  brought  me  from  India  last  year  several  speci- 
mens of  Echis  carinata,  a  species  about  nine  inches  long, 
whose  fangs  (two  on  one  maxilla  in  one  instance)  were  as 
large  as  this— (a  quarter  of  an  inch  long,  curved),  and  hard  as 
steel. 

"  This  Echis  kills  more  people  in  its  district  than  all  the 
other  snakes  together ;  it  is  found  everywhere.  We  must  also 
remember  how  very  few  persons  bitten  recover.  Indirect  evi- 
dence seems  to  point  to  a  comatose  state  as  soon  as  the  poison 
takes  effect ;  and  those  writhings  of  bitten  animals  which  it 
gives  us  so  much  pain  to  witness  are  probably  not  the  expres- 
sion of  suffering.  In  one  of  Fayrer's  cases  the  patient  (bitten 
by  a  cobra)  complained,  when  taken  to  the  hospital,  of  a  burn- 
ing pain  in  his  foot ;  but  as  no  more  is  said,  I  infer  he  then 
became  incapable  of  giving  any  further  description.  The 
?  burning '  is  just  what  I  feel  when  stung  by  a  bee,  and  the 
poison  soon  makes  me  drowsy.    In  one  instance  I  lay  for  an 

the  lid  of  which  I  was  holding  open.  There  were  already  three  adders 
in  the  box ;  and  in  our  care  lest  they  should  try  to  escape,  we  did  not 
keep  enough  watch  over  the  new  capture.  As  his  head  reached  the  level 
of  the  lid  of  the  box,  he  made  a  side- dart  at  my  hand,  and  struck  by 
the  thumb  nail.  The  hold  was  quite  momentary,  but  as  the  adder  was 
suspended  by  the  tail,  that  may  be  no  guide  to  the  general  rule.  The 
receding  of  the  blood  was  only  to  a  small  distance,  say  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  round  the  wound.  The  remedies  I  used  were  whisky,  (half  a  pint, 
as  soon  as  I  got  to  the  nearest  inn,  and  more  at  intervals  all  day,  also 
ammonia,)  both  to  drink  and  to  bathe  the  wound  with.  The  whisky 
seemed  to  have  no  effect :  my  whole  body  was  cold  and  deathly,  and  I 
felt  none  of  the  glow  which  usually  follows  a  stimulant." 


196 


DEUCALION. 


hour  feebly  conscious,  but  quite  indifferent  to  the  external 
world  ;  and  although  that  is  fourteen  years  ago,  I  well  remem- 
ber speculating  (albeit  I  was  innocent  of  any  knowledge  of 
snakes  then)  as  to  whether  their  poison  had  a  similar  effect. 
It  should  not,  I  think,  concern  us  much  to  learn  what  is  the 
precise  character  of  the  suffering  endured  by  any  poor  human 
being  whose  life  is  passing  away  under  this  mysterious  influ- 
ence, but  to  discover  its  physiological  action." 

41.  Most  wisely  and  truly  said  :  and  indeed,  if  any  useful 
result  is  ever  obtained  for  humanity  by  the  time  devoted  re- 
cently, both  in  experiment  and  debate,  to  the  question  of  the 
origin  of  life,  it  must  be  in  the  true  determination  of  the 
meanings  of  the  words  Medicine  and  Poison,  and  the  separa- 
tion into  recognized  orders  of  the  powers  of  the  things  which 
supply  strength  and  stimulate  function,  from  those  which  dis- 
solve flesh  and  paralyze  nerve.  The  most  interesting  summed 
result  which  I  yet  find  recorded  by  physicians,  is  the  state- 
ment in  the  appendix  to  Dr.  Fayrer's  '  Thanatophidia  \  of  the 
relative  mortal  action  of  the  Indian  and  Australian  venomous 
snakes  ;  the  one  paralyzing  the  limbs,  and  muscles  of  breath- 
ing and  speech,  but  not  affecting  the  heart ;  the  other  leaving 
the  limbs  free,  but  stopping  the  heart. 

42.  But  the  most  terrific  account  which  I  find  given  with 
sufficient  authority  of  the  effect  of  snake-bite  is  in  the  general 
article  closing  the  first  volume  of  Kussell's  '  History  of  Indian 
Serpents.'  Four  instances  are  there  recorded  of  the  bite,  not  of 
the  common  Cobra,  but  of  that  called  by  the  Portuguese  Cobra 
di  Morte.  It  is  the  smallest,  and  the  deadliest,  of  all  venom- 
ous serpents  known, — only  six  inches  long,  or  nine  at  the 
most,  and  not  thicker  than  a  tobacco-pipe, — and,  according  to 
the  most  definite  account,  does  not  move  like  ordinary  ser- 
pents, but  throws  itself  forward  a  foot  or  two  on  the  ground, 
in  successive  springs,  falling  in  the  shape  of  a  horse-shoe.  In 
the  five  instances  given  of  its  bite,  death  follows,  in  a  boy,  ten 
minutes  after  the  bite  ;  and  in  the  case  of  two  soldiers,  bitten 
by  the  same  snake,  but  one  a  minute  after  the  other,  in  their 
guard-room,  about  one  in  the  morning, — the  first  died  at 
seven  in  the  morning,  the  second  at  noon ;  in  both,  the  powers 


LIVING  WAVES. 


197 


of  sight  gradually  failing,  and  tliey  became  entirely  blind  be- 
fore death.  The  snake  is  described  as  of  a  dark  straw  colour, 
with  two  black  lines  behind  the  head ;  small,  flat  head,  with 
eyes  that  shone  like  diamonds. 

43.  Next  in  fatal  power  to  this  serpent, — fortunately  so  rare 
that  I  can  find  no  published  drawing  of  it, — come  the  Cobra, 
Kattlesnake,  and  Trigonocephalus,  or  triangle-headed  serpent 
of  the  West  Indies.  Of  the  last  of  these  snakes,  you  will  find 
a  most  terrific  account  (which  I  do  not  myself  above  one- 
third  believe)  in  the  ninth  volume  of  the  English  translation 
of  Cuvier's  '  Animal  Kingdom/  It  is  a  grand  book  of  fifteen 
volumes,  copiously  illustrated,  and  quite  unequalled  for  col- 
lection of  the  things  you  do  not  want  to  know  in  the  body  of 
the  text,  and  for  ceasing  to  be  trustworthy  the  moment  it  is 
entertaining.  I  will  read  from  it  a  single  paragraph  concern- 
ing the  Trigonocephalus,  of  which  you  may  believe  as  much 
or  as  little  as  you  like.  "  These  reptiles  possess  an  activity 
and  vivacity  of  motion  truly  alarming.  A  ferocious  instinct 
induces  them  to  dart  impetuously  upon  passengers,  either  by 
suddenly  letting  go  the  sort  of  spring  which  their  body  forms, 
rolled  in  concentric  and  superpoised  circles,  and  thus  shoot- 
ing like  an  arrow  from  the  bow  of  a  vigorous  archer,  or  pur- 
suing them  by  a  series  of  rapid  and  multiplied  leaps,  or 
climbing  up  trees  after  them,  or  even  threatening  them  in  a 
vertical  position." 

44.  The  two  other  serpents,  one  used  to  be  able  to  study  at 
our  own  Zoological  Gardens  ;  but  the  cobra  has  now  for  some 
years  had  the  glass  in  front  of  him  whitened,  to  prevent  vul- 
gar visitors  from  poking  sticks  at  him,  and  wearing  out  his 
constitution  in  bad  temper.  I  do  not  know  anything  more 
disgraceful  to  the  upper  classes  of  England  as  a  body,  than 
that,  while  on  the  one  hand  their  chief  recreations,  without 
which  existence  would  not  be  endurable  to  them,  are  gam- 
bling in  horses,  and  shooting  at  birds,  they  are  so  totally  with- 
out interest  in  the  natures  and  habits  of  animals  in  general, 
that  they  have  never  thought  of  enclosing  for  themselves  a 
park  and  space  of  various  kinds  of  ground,  in  free  and  healthy 
air,  in  which  there  should  be  a  perfect  gallery,  Louvre,  or 


198 


DEUCALION, 


Uffizii,  not  of  pictures,  as  at  Paris,  nor  of  statues,  as  a' 
Florence,  but  of  living  creatures  of  all  kinds,  beautifully  kept, 
and  of  which  the  contemplation  should  be  granted  only  to 
well-educated  and  gentle  people  who  would  take  the  trouble 
to  travel  so  far,  and  might  be  trusted  to  behave  decently  and 
kindly  to  any  living  creatures,  wild  or  tame. 

45.  Under  existing  circumstances,  however,  the  Zoological 
Gardens  are  still  a  place  of  extreme  interest ;  and  I  have 
been  able  at  different  times  to  make  memoranda  of  the  ways 
of  snakes  there,  which  have  been  here  enlarged  for  you  by  my 
friends,  or  by  myself  ;  and  having  been  made  always  with 
reference  to  gesture  or  expression,  show  you,  I  believe,  more 
of  the  living  action  than  you  wTill  usually  find  in  scientific 
drawings  :  the  point  which  you  have  chiefly  to  recollect  about 
the  cobra  being  this  curious  one — that  while  the  puffadder, 
and  most  other  snakes,  or  snakelike  creatures,  swTell  when 
they  are  angry,  the  cobra  flattens  himself  ;  and  becomes,  for 
four  or  five  inches  of  his  length,  rather  a  hollow  shell  than  a 
snake.  The  beautiful  drawing  made  by  Mr.  Macdonald  in 
enlarging  my  sketch  from  life  shows  you  the  gesture  accu- 
rately," and  especially  the  levelling  of  the  head  which  gives  it 
the  chief  terror.  It  is  always  represented  with  absolute  truth 
in  Egyptian  painting  and  sculpture  ;  one  of  the  notablest 
facts  to  my  mind  in  the  entire  histoiy  of  the  human  race 
being  the  adoption  by  the  Egyptians  of  this  serpent  for  the 
type  of  their  tyrannous  monarchy,  just  as  the  cross  or  the  lily 
was  adopted  for  the  general  symbol  of  kinghood  by  the  mon- 
arch s  of  Christendom. 

46.  I  would  fain  enlarge  upon  this  point,' but  time  forbids 
me  :  only  please  recollect  this  one  vital  fact,  that  the  nature 
of  Egyptian  monarchy,  however  great  its  justice,  is  always 
that  of  government  by  cruel  force  ;  and  that  the  nature  of 
Christian  monarchy  is  embodied  in  the  cross  or  lily,  which 
signify  either  an  authority  received  by  divine  appointment, 
and  maintained  by  personal  suffering  and  sacrifice  ;  or  else  a 
dominion  consisting  in  recognized  gentleness  and  beauty  of 
character,  loved  long  before  it  is  obeyed. 

47.  And  again,  whatever  may  be  the  doubtful  meanings  of 


LIVING  WAVES. 


199 


the  legends  invented  among  all  those  nations  of  the  earth  who 
have  ever  seen  a  serpent  alive,  one  thing  is  certain,  that  they 
all  have  felt  it  to  represent  to  them,  in  a  way  quite  inevitably 
instructive,  the  state  of  an  entirely  degraded  and  malignant 
human  life.  I  have  no  time  to  enter  on  any  analysis  of  the 
causes  of  expression  in  animals,  but  this  is  a  constant  law  for 
them,  that  they  are  delightful  or  dreadful  to  us  exactly  in  the 
degree  in  which  they  resemble  the  contours  of  the  human 
countenance  given  to  it  by  virtue  and  vice  ;  and  this  head  of 
the  cerastes,  and  that  of  the  rattlesnake,  are  in  reality  more 
terrific  to  you  than  the  others,  not  because  they  are  more 
snaky,  but  because  they  are  more  human, — because  the  one 
has  in  it  the  ghastliest  expression  of  malignant  avarice,  and  the 
other  of  malignant  pride.  In  the  deepest  and  most  literal 
sense,  to  those  who  allow  the  temptations  of  our  natural  pas- 
sions their  full  sway,  the  curse,  fabulously  (if  you  will)  spoken 
on  the  serpent  is  fatally  and  to  the  full  accomplished  upon 
ourselves  ;  and  as  for  noble  and  righteous  persons  and  nations, 
the  words  are  for  ever  true,  "Thou  art  fairer  than  the  children 
of  men :  full  of  grace  are  thy  lips  ; "  so  for  the  ignoble  and 
iniquitous,  the  saying  is  for  ever  true,  "  Thou  art  fouler  than  the 
children  of  the  Dust,  and  the  poison  of  asps  is  under  thy  lips.  *' 
48.  Let  me  show  you,  in  one  constant  manner  of  our  na- 
tional iniquity,  how  literally  that  is  true.  Literally,  observe. 
In  any  good  book,  but  especially  in  the  Bible,  you  must 
always  look  for  the  literal  meaning  of  everything  first, — and 
act  out  that,  then  the  spiritual  meaning  easily  and  securely 
follows.  Now  in  the  great  Song  of  Moses,  in  w^hich  he  fore- 
tells, before  his  death,  the  corruption  of  Israel,  he  says  of  the 
wicked  race  into  which  the  Holy  People  are  to  change,  "  Their 
wine  is  the  poison  of  dragons,  and  the  cruel  venom  of  asps." 
Their  wine, — that  is  to  say,  of  course,  not  the  wine  they  drink, 
but  the  wine  they  give  to  drink.  So  that,  as  our  best  duty  to 
our  neighbour  is  figured  by  the  Samaritan  who  heals  wounds 
by  pouring  in  oil  and  wine,  our  worst  sin  against  our  neigh- 
bour is  in  envenoming  his  wounds  by  pouring  in  gall  and 
poison.  The  cruel  venom  of  Asps — of  that  browTn  gentleman 
you  see  there ! 


200 


DEUCALION. 


49.  Now  I  am  sure  you  would  all  be  very  much  shocked, 
and  think  it  extremely  wrong,  if  you  saw  anybody  deliberately 
poisoning  so  much  as  one  person  in  that  manner.  Suppose 
even  in  the  interests  of  science,  to  which  you  are  all  so  de- 
voted, I  were  myself  to  bring  into  this  lecture-room  a  country 
lout  of  the  stupidest, — the  sort  whom  you  produce  by  Church 
of  England  education,  and  then  do  all  you  can  to  get  emi- 
grated out  of  your  way  ;  fellows  whose  life  is  of  no  use  to 
them,  nor  anybody  else ;  and  that — always  in  the  interests  of 
science — I  were  to  lance  just  the  least  drop  out  of  that  beast's 
tooth  into  his  throat,  and  let  you  see  him  swell,  and  choke, 
and  get  blue  and  blind,  and  gasp  himself  away — you  wouldn't 
all  sit  quiet  there,  and  have  it  so  done — would  you? — in  the 
interests  of  science. 

50.  Well ;  but  how  then  if  in  your  own  interests  ?  Suppose 
the  poor  lout  had  his  week's  wages  in  his  pocket — thirty 
shillings  or  so ;  and,  after  his  inoculation,  I  were  to  pick  his 
pocket  of  them;  and  then  order  in  a  few  more  louts,  and 
lance  their  throats  likewise,  and  pick  their  pockets  likewise, 
and  divide  the  proceeds  of,  say,  a  dozen  of  poisoned  louts, 
among  you  all,  after  lecture :  for  the  seven  or  eight  hundred 
of  you,  I  could  perhaps  get  sixpence  each  out  of  a  dozen  of 
poisoned  louts  ;  yet  you  would  still  feel  the  proceedings  pain- 
ful to  your  feelings,  and  wouldn't  take  the  sixpen'north — 
would  you  ? 

51.  But  how,  if  you  constituted  yourselves  into  a  co-oper- 
ative Egyptian  Asp  and  Mississippi  Rattlesnake  Company, 
with  an  eloquent  member  of  Parliament  for  the  rattle  at  its 
tail  ?  and  if,  brown  asps  getting  scarce,  you  brewed  your  own 
venom  of  beautiful  aspic  brown,  with  a  white  head,  and  per- 
suaded your  louts  to  turn  their  own  pockets  inside-out  to  get 
it,  giving  you  each  sixpence  a  night, — seven  pounds  ten  a  year 
of  lovely  dividend  ! — How  does  the  operation  begin  to  look 
now  ?    Commercial  and  amiable — does  it  not  ? 

52.  But  how — to  come  to  actual  fact  and  climax — if,  instead 
of  a  Company,  you  were  constituted  into  a  College  of  reverend 
and  scholarly  persons,  each  appointed — like  the  King  of  Salem 
— to  bring  forth  the  bread  and  wine  of  healing  knowledge ; 


LIVING  WAVES. 


201 


but  that,  instead  of  bread  gratis,  you  gave  stones  for  pay ; 
and,  instead  of  wine  gratis,  you  gave  asp-poison  for  pay, — 
how  then  ?  Suppose,  for  closer  instance,  that  you  became  a 
College  called  of  the  Body  of  Christ,  and  with  a  symbolic 
pelican  for  its  crest,  but  that  this  charitable  pelican  had  begun 
to  peck — not  itself,  but  other  people, — and  become  a  vampire 
pelican,  sucking  blood  instead  of  shedding, — how  then  ?  They 
say  it's  an  ill  bird  that  fouls  its  own  nest.  My  own  feeling  is 
that  a  well-behaved  bird  will  neither  foul  its  own  nest  nor 
another's,  but  that,  finding  it  in  any  wise  foul,  it  will  openly 
say  so,  and  clean  it. 

53.  Well,  I  know  a  village,  some  few  miles  from  Oxford, 
numbering  of  inhabitants  some  four  hundred  louts,  in  which 
.my  own  College  of  the  Body  of  Christ  keeps  the  public-house, 
and  therein  sells — by  its  deputy — such  poisoned  beer  that  the 
Rector's  wife  told  me,  only  the  day  before  yesterday,  that  she 
sent  for  some  to  take  out  a  stain  in  a  dress  with,  and  couldn't 
touch  the  dress  with  it,  it  was  so  filthy  with  salt  and  acid,  to 
provoke  thirst ;  and  that  while  the  public-house  was  there  she 
had  no  hope  of  doing  any  good  to  the  men,  who  always  pre- 
pared for  Sunday  by  a  fight  on  Saturday  night.  And  that  my 
own  very  good  friend  the  Bursar,  and  we  the  Fellows,  of 
Corpus,  being  appealed  to  again  and  again  to  shut  up  that 
tavern,  the  answer  is  always,  "The  College  can't  afford  it :  we 
can't  give  up  that  fifty  pounds  a  year  out  of  those  peasant 
sots'  pockets,  and  yet  '  as  a  College  '  live." 

Drive  that  nail  home  with  your  own  hammers,  for  I've  no 
more  time  ;  and  consider  the  significance  of  the  fact,  that  the 
gentlemen  of  England  can't  afford  to  keep  up  a  college  for 
their  own  sons  but  by  selling  death  of  body  and  soul  to  their 
own  peasantry. 

54.  I  come  now  to  my  last  head  of  lecture — my  caution 
concerning  the  wisdom  which  we  buy  at  such  a  price.  I  had 
not  intended  any  part  of  my  talk  to-night  to  be  so  grave  ; 
and  was  forced  into  saying  what  I  have  now  said  by  the  ap- 
pointment of  Fors  that  the  said  village  Rector's  wife  should 
come  up  to  town  to  nurse  her  brother,  Mr.  Severn,  who  drew 
your  diagrams  for  you.    I  had  meant  to  be  as  cheerful  as  I 


202 


DEUCALION. 


could  ;  and  chose  the  original  title  of  my  lecture,  c  A  Caution 
to  Snakes/  partly  in  play,  and  partly  in  affectionate  remem- 
brance of  the  scene  in  'New  Men  and  Old  Acres,'  in  which 
the  phrase  became  at  once  so  startling  and  so  charming,  on 
the  lips  of  my  much-regarded  friend,  Mrs.  Kendal. 

But  this  one  little  bit  of  caution  more  I  always  intended  to 
give,  and  to  give  earnestly. 

55.  What  the  best  wisdom  of  the  Serpent  may  be,  I  assume 
that  you  all  possess  ; — and  my  caution  is  to  be  addressed  to 
you  in  that  brightly  serpentine  perfection.  In  all  other  re- 
spects as  wise,  in  one  respect  let  me  beg  you  to  be  wiser  than 
the  Serpent,  and  not  to  eat  your  meat  without  tasting  it, — 
meat  of  any  sort,  but  above  all  the  serpent-recommended  meat 
of  knowledge.  Think  what  a  delicate  and  delightful  meat 
that  used  to  be  in  old  days,  when  it  was  not  quite  so  common 
as  it  is  now,  and  when  young  people — the  best  sort  of  them — - 
really  hungered  and  thirsted  for  it.  Then  a  youth  went  up 
to  Cambridge,  or  Padua,  or  Bonn,  as  to  a  feast  of  fat  things, 
of  wines  on  the  lees,  well-refined.  But  now,  he  goes  only  to 
swallow, — and,  more's  the  pity,  not  even  to  swallow  as  a 
glutton  does,  with  enjoyment  ;  not  even-*-forgive  me  the  old 
Aristotelian  Greek,  ^So/xa'os  rrj  a^y — pleased  wTith  the  going 
down,  but  in  the  saddest  and  exactest  way,  as  a  constrictor 
does,  tasting  nothing  all  the  time.  You  remember  what 
Professor  Huxley  told  you — most  interesting  it  was,  and  new 
to  me — of  the  way  the  great  boa  does  not  in  any  true  sense 
swallow,  but  only  hitches  himself  on  to  his  meat  like  a  coal- 
sack  ; — well,  that's  the  exact  way  you  expect  your  poor  modern 
student  to  hitch  himself  onto  his  meat,  catching  and  notching 
his  teeth  into  it,  and  dragging  the  skin  of  him  tight  over  it, 
— till  at  last — you  know  I  told  you  a  little  while  ago  our 
artists  didn't  know  a  snake  from  a  sausage, — but,  Heaven 
help  us,  your  University  doctors  are  going  on  at  such  a  rate 
that  it  will  be  all  we  can  do,  soon,  to  know  a  man  from  a 
sausage. 

56.  Then  think  again,  in  old  times  what  a  delicious  thing 
a  book  used  to  be  in  a  chimney  corner,  or  in  the  garden,  or 
in  the  fields,  where  one  used  really  to  read  a  book,  and  nibble 


BE  VISION. 


203 


a  nice  bit  here  and  there  if  it  was  a  bride-cakey  sort  of  book, 
and  cut  oneself  a  lovely  slice — fat  and  lean — if  it  was  a 
round-of-beef  sort  of  book.  But  what  do  you  do  with  a  book 
now,  be  it  ever  so  good  ?  You  give  it  to  a  reviewer,  first  to 
skin  it,  and  then  to  bone  it,  and  then  to  chew  it,  and  then  to 
lick  it,  and  then  to  give  it  you  down  your  throat  like  a  hand- 
ful of  pilau.  And  when  you've  got  it,  you've  no  relish  for  it, 
after  all.  And,  alas  !  this  continually  increasing  deadness  to 
the  pleasures  of  literature  leaves  your  minds,  even  in  their 
most  conscientious  action,  sensitive  with  agony  to  the  sting 
of  vanity,  and  at  the  mercy  of  the  meanest  temptations  held 
out  by  the  competition  of  the  schools.  How  often  do  I  re- 
ceive letters  from  young  men  of  sense  and  genius,  lamenting 
the  loss  of  their  strength,  and  waste  of  their  time,  but  ending 
always  with  the  same  saying,  "  I  must  take  as  high  a  class  as 
I  can,  in  order  to  please  my  father."  And  the  fathers  love 
the  lads  all  the  time,  but  yet,  in  every  word  they  speak  to 
them,  prick  the  poison  of  the  asp  into  their  young  blood,  and 
sicken  their  eyes  with  blindness  to  all  the  true  joys,  the  true 
aims,  and  the  true  praises  of  science  and  literature ;  neither 
do  they  themselves  any  more  conceive  what  was  once  the 
faith  of  Englishmen  ;  that  the  only  path  of  honour  is  that  of 
rectitude,  and  the  only  place  of  honour,  the  one  that  you  are 
fit  for.  Make  your  children  happy  in  their  youth  ;  let  dis- 
tinction come  to  them,  if  it  will,  after  well-spent  and  well- 
remembered  years  ;  but  let  them  now  break  and  eat  the  bread 
of  Heaven  with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart,  and  send 
portions  to  them  for  whom  nothing  is  prepared  ; — and  so 
Heaven  send  you  its  grace — before  meat,  and  after  it. 


CHAPTER  H. 

REVISION. 

1.  If  the  reader  will  look  back  to  the  opening  chapter  of 
'  Deucalion,'  he  will  see  that  the  book  was  intended  to  be  a  col- 
lection of  the  notices  of  phenomena  relating  to  geology  which 


i>04 


DEUCALION: 


were  scattered  through  my  former  works,  systematized  so  fai 
a&  might  be  possible,  by  such  additional  studies  as  time  per- 
mitted me. 

Hitherto,  however,  the  scattered  chapters  have  contained 
nothing  else  than  these  additional  studies,  which,  so  far  from 
systematizing  what  preceded  them,  stand  now  greatly  in  need 
of  arrangement  themselves  ;  and  still  more  of  some  explana- 
tion of  the  incidental  passages  referring  to  matters  of  higher 
science  than  geology,  in  which  I  have  too  often  assumed  that 
the  reader  is  acquainted  with — and  in  some  degree  even  pre- 
pared to  admit — the  modes  of  thought  and  reasoning  which 
have  been  followed  throughout  the  general  body  of  my  writ- 
ings. 

I  have  never  given  myself  out  for  a  philosopher  ;  nor  spoken 
of  the  teaching  attempted  in  connection  with  any  subject  of 
inquiry,  as  other  than  that  of  a  village  showman's  "Look — 
and  you  shall  see."  But,  during  the  last  twenty  years,  so  many 
baseless  semblances  of  philosophy  have  announced  themselves  ; 
and  the  laws  of  decent  thought  and  rational  question  have 
been  so  far  transgressed  (even  in  our  universities,  where  the 
moral  philosophy  they  once  taught  is  now  only  remembered 
as  an  obscure  tradition,  and  the  natural  science  in  which  they 
are  proud,  presented  only  as  an  impious  conjecture),  that  it  is 
forced  upon  me,  as  the  only  means  of  making  what  I  have 
said  on  these  subjects  permanently  useful,  to  put  into  clear 
terms  the  natural  philosophy  and  natural  theology  to  which 
my  books  refer,  as  accepted  by  the  intellectual  leaders  of  all 
past  time. 

2.  To  this  end  I  am  republishing  the  second  volume  of 
'  Modern  Painters,'  which,  though  in  affected  language,  yet 
with  sincere  and  very  deep  feeling,  expresses  the  first  and 
foundational  law  respecting  human  contemplation  of  the  nat- 
ural phenomena  under  whose  influence  we  exist, — that  they 
can  only  be  seen  with  their  properly  belonging  joy,  and  in- 
terpreted up  to  the  measure  of  proper  human  intelligence, 
when  they  are  accepted  as  the  work,  and  the  gift,  of  a  Living 
Spirit  greater  than  our  own. 

3.  Similarly,  the  moral  philosophy  which  underlies  all  the 


BE  VISION. 


205 


appeals,  and  all  the  accusations,  made  in  the  course  of  my 
wri tings  on  political  science,  assumes  throughout  that  the 
principles  of  Justice  and  Mercy  which  are  fastened  in  the  hearts 
of  men,  are  also  expressed  in  entirely  consistent  terms  through- 
out the  higher — (and  even  the  inferior,  when  undefiled)—  ■ 
forms  of  all  lovely  literature  and  art ;  and  enforced  by  the 
Providence  of  a  Ruling  and  Judging  Spiritual  Power,  man- 
ifest to  those  who  desire  its  manifestation,  and  concealed  from 
those  who  desire  its  concealment. 

4.  These  two  Faiths,  in  the  creating  Spirit,  as  the  source 
of  Beauty, — in  the  governing  Spirit,  as  the  founder  and  main- 
tainer  of  Moral  Law,  are,  I  have  said,  assumed  as  the  basis  of 
all  exposition  and  of  all  counsel,  which  have  ever  been  at- 
tempted or  offered  in  my  books.  I  have  never  held  it  my  duty, 
never  ventured  to  think  of  it  even  as  a  permitted  right,  to 
proclaim  or  explain  these  faiths,  except  only  by  referring  to 
the  writings,  properly  called  inspired,  in  which  the  good  men 
of  all  nations  and  languages  had  concurrently — though  at  far 
distant  and  different  times — declared  them.  But  it  has  become 
now  for  many  reasons,  besides  those  above  sj)ecined,  necessary 
for  me  to  define  clearly  the  meaning  of  the  words  I  have  used 
— the  scope  of  the  laws  I  have  appealed  to,  and,  most  of  all, 
the  nature  of  some  of  the  feelings  possible  under  the  reception 
of  these  creeds,  and  impossible  to  those  who  refuse  them. 

5.  This  may,  I  think,  be  done  with  the  best  brevity  and 
least  repetition,  by  adding  to  those  of  my  books  still  unfin- 
ished, '  Deucalion,'  '  Proserpina/  '  Love's  Meinie/  and  Tors 
Clavigera,'  explanatory  references  to  the  pieces  of  theology  or 
natural  philosophy  which  have  already  occurred  in  each,  in- 
dicating their  modes  of  connection,  and  the  chiefly  parallel 
passages  in  the  books  which  are  already  concluded  ;  among 
which  I  may  name  the  '  Eagle's  Nest,'  as  already,  if  read  care- 
fully, containing  nearly  all  necessary  elements  of  interpretation 
for  the  others. 

6.  I  am  glad  to  begin  with  '  Deucalion,'  for  its  title  already 
implies,  (and  is  directly  explained  in  its  seventh  page  as  imply- 
ing,) the  quite  first  principle,  with  me,  of  historic  reading  in 
divinity,  that  all  nations  have  been  taught  of  God  according 


206 


Dm  C ALIGN. 


to  their  capacity,  and  may  best  learn  what  farther  they  would 
know  of  Him  by  reverence  for  the  impressions  which  He  has 
set  on  the  hearts  of  each,  and  all. 

I  said  farther  in  the  same  place  that  I  thought  it  well  for 
the  student  first  to  learn  the  "  myths  of  the  Betrayal  and  Re- 
demption  "  as  they  were  taught  to  the  heathen  world  ;  but  I 
did  not  say  what  I  meant  by  the  e  Betrayal ?  and  '  Redemption  ■ 
in  their  universal  sense,  as  represented  alike  by  Christian  and 
heathen  legends. 

7.  The  idea  of  contest  between  good  and  evil  spirits  for  the 
soul  and  body  of  man,  which  forms  the  principal  subject  of 
all  the  imaginative  literature  of  the  world,  has  hitherto  been 
the  only  explanation  of  its  moral  phenomena  tenable  by  intel- 
lects of  the  highest  power.  It  is  no  more  a  certain  or  suf- 
ficient explanation  than  the  theory  of  gravitation  is  of  the  con- 
struction of  the  starry  heavens  ;  but  it  reaches  farther  towards 
analysis  of  the  facts  known  to  us  than  any  other.  By  '  the  Be- 
trayal I  in  the  passage  just  referred  to  I  meant  the  supposed 
victory,  in  the  present  age  of  the  world,  of  the  deceiving  spirit- 
ual power,  which  makes  the  vices  of  man  his  leading  motives 
of  action,  and  his  follies,  its  leading  methods.  By  '  the  Re- 
demption '  I  meant  the  promised  final  victory  of  the  creating 
and  true  Spirit,  in  opening  the  blind  eyes,  in  making  the 
crooked  places  straight  and  the  rough  plain,  and  restoring  the 
power  of  His  ministering  angels,  over  a  world  in  which  there 
shall  be  no  more  tears. 

8.  The  £  myths  ' — allegorical  fables  or  stories — in  wdrich  this 
belief  is  represented,  were,  I  went  on  to  say  in  the  same  place, 
"incomparably  truer  "  than  the  Darwinian — or,  I  will  add,  any 
other  conceivable  materialistic  theory — because  they  are  the 
instinctive  products  of  the  natural  human  mind,  conscious  of 
certain  facts  relating  to  its  fate  and  peace  ;  and  as  unerring 
in  that  instinct  as  all  other  living  creatures  are  in  the  difr 
covery  of  what  is  necessary  for  their  life  :  while  the  material- 
istic theories  have  been  from  their  beginning  products,  in  the 
words  used  in  the  passage  I  am  explaining  (page  8,  line  4), 
of  the  'h alf  wits  of  impertinent  multitudes.'  They  are  half- 
witted because  never  entertained  by  any  person  possessing 


REVISION, 


207 


imaginative  power, — and  impertinent,  because  they  are  always 
announced  as  if  the  very  defect  of  imagination  constituted  a 
superiority  of  discernment. 

9.  In  one  of  the  cleverest — -(and,  in  description  of  the  faults 
and  errors  of  religious  persons,  usefullest) — books  of  this 
modern  half-witted  school,  "une  cure  du  Docteur  Pontalais," 
of  which  the  plot  consists  in  the  revelation  by  an  ingenious 
doctor  to  an  ingenuous  priest  that  the  creation  of  the  world 
may  be  sufficiently  explained  by  dropping  oil  with  dexterity 
out  of  a  pipe  into  a  wineglass, — the  assumption  that  4a  lo- 
gique '  and  '  la  methode '  were  never  applied  to  theological 
subjects  except  in  the  Quartier  Latin  of  Paris  in  the  present 
blessed  state  of  Parisian  intelligence  and  morals,  may  be  I 
hope  received  as  expressing  nearly  the  ultimate  possibilities 
of  shallow  arrogance  in  these  regions  of  thought ;  and  I  name 
the  book  as  one  extremely  well  worth  reading,  first  as  such  ; 
and  secondly  because  it  puts  into  the  clearest  form  I  have  yet 
met  with,  the  peculiar  darkness  of  materialism,  in  its  denial 
of  the  hope  of  immortality.  The  hero  of  it,  who  is  a  perfectly 
virtuous  person,  and  inventor  of  the  most  ingenious  and  be- 
nevolent machines,  is  killed  by  the  cruelties  of  an  usurer  and 
a  priest ;  and  in  dying,  the  only  consolation  he  offers  his  wife 
and  children  is  that  the  loss  of  one  life  is  of  no  consequence 
in  the  progress  of  humanity. 

This  unselfish  resignation  to  total  death  is  the  most  heroic 
element  in  the  Religion  now  in  materialist  circles  called  the 
Religion  "of  Humanity,"  and  announced  as  if  it  were  a  new 
discovery  of  nineteenth-century  sagacity,  and  able  to  replace 
in  the  system  of  its  society,  alike  all  former  ideas  of  the  power 
of  God,  and  destinies  of  man. 

10.  But,  in  the  first  place,  it  is  by  no  means  a  new  discovery. 
The  fact  that  the  loss  of  a  single  life  is  of  no  consequence 
when  the  lives  of  many  are  to  be  saved,  is,  and  always  has 
been,  the  root  of  every  form  of  beautiful  courage  ;  and  I  have 
again  and  again  pointed  out,  in  passages  scattered  through 
writings  carefully  limited  in  assertion,  between  1860  and  1870, 
that  the  heroic  actions  on  which  the  material  destinies  of  this 
world  depend  are  almost  invariably  done  under  the  conception 


208 


DEUCALION. 


of  death  as  a  calamity,  which  is  to  be  endured  by  one  for  the 
deliverance  of  many,  and  after  which  there  is  no  personal  re- 
ward to  be  looked  for,  but  the  gratitude  or  fame  of  which  the 
victim  anticipates  no  consciousness. 

11.  In  the  second  place,  this  idea  of  self-sacrifice  is  no  more 
sufficient  for  man  than  it  is  new  to  him.  It  has,  indeed, 
strength  enough  to  maintain  his  courage  under  circumstances 
of  sharp  and  instant  trial ;  but  it  has  no  power  whatever  to 
satisfy  the  heart  in  the  ordinary  conditions  of  social  affection, 
or  to  console  the  spirit  and  invigorate  the  character  through 
years  of  separation  or  distress.  Still  less  can  it  produce  the 
states  of  intellectual  imagination  which  have  hitherto  been 
necessary  for  the  triumphs  of  constructive  art ;  and  it  is  a  dis- 
tinctive essential  point  in  the  modes  of  examining  the  arts  as 
part  of  necessary  moral  education,  which  have  been  constant 
in  my  references  to  them,  that  those  of  poetry,  music,  and 
painting,  which  the  religious  schools  who  have  employed  them 
usually  regard  only  as  stimulants  or  embodiments  of  faith, 
have  been  by  me  always  considered  as  its  evidences.  Men  do 
not  sing  themselves  into  love  or  faith  ;  but  they  are  incapable 
of  true  song,  till  they  love,  and  believe. 

12.  The  lower  conditions  of  intellect  which  are  concerned 
in  the  pursuit  of  natural  science,  or  the  invention  of  mechan- 
ical structure,  are  similarly,  and  no  less  intimately,  dependent 
for  their  perfection  on  the  lower  feelings  of  admiration  and 
affection  which  can  be  attached  to  material  things  :  these  al- 
so— the  curiosity  and  ingenuity  of  man — live  by  admiration 
and  by  love  ;  but  they  differ  from  the  imaginative  powers  in 
that  they  are  concerned  with  things  seen — not  with  the  evi- 
dences of  things  unseen — and  it  would  be  well  for  them  if 
the  understanding  of  this  restriction  prevented  them  in  the 
present  day  as  severely  from  speculation  as  it  does  from  de- 
votion. 

13.  Nevertheless,  in  the  earlier  and  happier  days  of  Lin- 
naeus, de  Saussure,  von  Humboldt,  and  the  multitude  of  quiet 
workers  on  whose  secure  foundation  the  fantastic  expatiations 
of  modern  science  depend  for  whatever  good  or  stability  there 
is  in  them,  natural  religion  was  always  a  part  of  natural 


REVISION. 


209 


science  ;  it  becomes  with  Linnaeus  a  part  of  his  definitions  ; 
it  underlies,  in  serene  modesty,  the  courage  and  enthusiasm 
of  the  great  travellers  and  discoverers,  from  Columbus  and 
Hudson  to  Livingstone  ;  and  it  has  saved  the  lives,  or  solaced 
the  deaths,  of  myriads  of  men  whose  nobleness  asked  for  no 
memorial  but  in  the  gradual  enlargement  of  the  realm  of 
manhood,  in  habitation,  and  in  social  virtue. 

14.  And  it  is  perhaps,  of  all  the  tests  of  difference  between 
the  majestic  science  of  those  days,  and  the  wild  theories  or 
foul  curiosities  of  our  own,  the  most  strange  and  the  most 
distinct,  that  the  practical  suggestions  which  are  scattered 
through  the  writings  of  the  older  naturalists  tend  always  di- 
rectly to  the  benefit  of  the  general  body  of  mankind  ;  while 
the  discoverers  of  modern  science  have,  almost  without  ex- 
ception, provoked  new  furies  of  avarice,  and  new  tyrannies  of 
individual  interest ;  or  else  have  directly  contributed  to  the 
means  of  violent  and  sudden  destruction,  already  incalculably 
too  potent  in  the  hands  of  the  idle  and  the  wicked. 

15.  It  is  right  and  just  that  the  reader  should  remember, 
in  reviewing  the  chapters  of  my  own  earlier  writings  on  the 
origin  and  sculpture  of  mountain  form,  that  all  the  investiga- 
tions undertaken  by  me  at  that  time  were  connected  in  my 
own  mind  with  the  practical  hope  of  arousing  the  attention 
of  the  Swiss  and  Italian  mountain  peasantry  to  an  intelligent 
administration  of  the  natural  treasures  of  their  woods  and 
streams.  I  had  fixed  my  thoughts  on  these  problems  where 
they  are  put  in  the  most  exigent  distinctness  by  the  various 
distress  and  disease  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  of  the 
Rhone,  above  the  lake  of  Geneva :  a  district  in  which  the  ad- 
verse influences  of  unequal  temperatures,  unwholesome  air, 
and  alternate  or  correlative  drought  and  inundation,  are  all 
gathered  in  hostility  against  a  race  of  peasantry,  the  Valaisan, 
by  nature  virtuous,  industrious,  and  intelligent  in  no  ordinary 
degree,  and  by  the  hereditary  and  natural  adversities  of  their 
position,  regarded  by  themselves  as  inevitable,  reduced  in- 
deed, many  of  them,  to  extreme  poverty  and  woful  disease  ; 
but  never  sunk  into  a  vicious  or  reckless  despair. 

16.  The  practical  conclusions  at  which  I  arrived,  in  study- 


210 


DEUCALION. 


ing  the  channels  and  currents  of  the  Rhone,  Ticino,  and  Ad. 
ige,  were  stated  first  in  the  letters  addressed  to  the  English 
press  on  the  subject  of  the  great  inundations  at  Rome  in  1871 
('Arrows  of  the  Chace,'  vol.  ii.,  pp.  104-113),  and  they  are 
again  stated  incidentally  in  4  Fors  5  (Letter  XIX.),  with  direct 
reference  to  the  dangerous  power  of  the  Adige  above  Verona, 
Had  those  suggestions  been  acted  upon,  even  in  the  most 
languid  and  feeble  manner,  the  twentieth  part  of  the  sums 
since  spent  by  the  Italian  government  in  carrying  French 
Boulevards  round  Tuscan  cities,  and  throwing  down  their 
ancient  streets  to  find  lines  for  steam  tramways,  would  not 
only  have  prevented  the  recent  inundations  in  North  Italy, 
but  rendered  their  recurrence  for  ever  impossible. 

17.  As  it  is  thus  the  seal  of  rightly  directed  scientific  inves- 
tigation, to  be  sanctified  by  loving  anxiety  for  instant  practi- 
cal use,  so  also  the  best  sign  of  its  completeness  and  sym- 
metry is  in  the  frankness  of  its  communication  to  the  general 
mind  of  well-educated  persons. 

The  fixed  relations  of  the  crystalline  planes  of  minerals, 
first  stated,  and  in  the  simplest  mathematical  terms  ex- 
pressed, by  Professor  Miller  of  Cambridge,  have  been  exam- 
ined by  succeeding  mineralogists  with  an  ambitious  intensity 
which  has  at  last  placed  the  diagrams  of  zone  circles  for 
quartz  and  calcite,  given  in  Cloizeaux's  mineralogy,  both  as 
monuments  of  research,  and  masterpieces  of  engraving,  a 
place  among  the  most  remarkable  productions  of  the  feverish 
energies  of  the  nineteenth  century.  But  in  the  meantime,  all 
the  characters  of  minerals,  except  the  optical  and  crystalline 
ones,  which  it  required  the  best  instruments  to  detect,  and 
the  severest  industry  to  register,  have  been  neglected  ;  *  the 

*  Even  the  chemistry  has  been  allowed  to  remain  imperfect  or  doubt- 
ful, while  the  planes  of  crystals  were  being  counted :  thus  for  an  ex- 
treme instance,  the  most  important  practical  fact  that  the  colour  of 
ultramarine  is  destroyed  by  acids,  will  not  be  found  stated  in  the  de- 
scriptions of  that  mineral  by  either  Miller,  Cloizeaux,  or  Dana  ;  and  no 
microscopic  studies  of  refraction  have  hitherto  informed  the  public 
why  a  ruby  is  red,  a  sapphire  blue,  or  a  flint  black.  On  a  large  scale, 
the  darkening  of  the  metamorphic  limestones,  near  the  central  ranges, 
remains  unexplained. 


HE  VISION. 


211 


arrangement  of  collections  in  museums  has  been  made  unin- 
telligibly scientific,  without  the  slightest  consideration  whether 
the  formally  sequent  specimens  were  in  lights,  or  places,  where 
they  could  be  ever  visible  ;  the  elements  of  mineralogy  pre- 
pared for  schools  have  been  diversified  by  eight  or  ten  differ- 
ent modes,  nomenclatures,  and  systems  of  notation  ;  and 
while  thus  the  study  of  mineralogy  at  all  has  become  impos- 
sible to  young  people,  except  as  a  very  arduous  branch  of 
mathematics,  that  of  its  connection  with  the  structure  of  the 
earth  has  been  postponed  by  the  leading  members  of  the 
Geological  Society,  to  inquire  into  the  habits  of  animalculae 
fortunately  for  the  world  invisible,  and  monsters  fortunately 
for  the  world  unregenerate.  The  race  of  old  Swiss  guides, 
who  knew  the  flowers  and  crystals  of  their  crags,  has  mean- 
while been  replaced  by  chapmen,  who  destroy  the  rarest  liv- 
ing flowers  of  the  Alps  to  raise  the  price  of  their  herbaria, 
and  pedestrian  athletes  in  the  pay  of  foolish  youths ;  the 
result  being  that  while  fifty  years  ago  there  was  a  good 
and  valuable  mineral  cabinet  in  every  important  mountain 
village,  it  is  impossible  now  to  find  even  at  Geneva  anything 
offered  for  sale  but  dyed  agates  from  Oberstein  ;  and  the 
confused  refuse  of  the  cheap  lapidary's  wheel,  working  for 
the  supply  of  Mr.  Cooke's  tourists  with  '  Trifles  from  Cha- 
mouni.' 

18.  I  have  too  long  hoped  to  obtain  some  remedy  for  these 
evils  by  putting  the  questions  about  simple  things  which 
ought  to  be  answered  in  elementary  schoolbooks  of  science, 
clearly  before  the  student.  My  own  books  have  thus  some- 
times become  little  more  than  notes  of  interrogation,  in  their 
trust  that  some  day  or  other  the  compassion  of  men  of  science 
might  lead  them  to  pause  in  their  career  of  discovery,  and 
take  up  the  more  generous  task  of  instruction.  But  so  far 
from  this,  the  compilers  of  popular  treatises  have  sought  al- 
ways to  make  them  more  saleable  by  bringing  them  up  to  the 
level  of  last  month's  scientific  news  ;  seizing  also  invariably, 
of  such  new  matter,  that  which  was  either  in  itself  most  singu- 
lar, or  in  its  tendencies  most  contradictory  of  former  suppo- 
sitions and  credences  :  and  I  purpose  now  to  redeem,  so  far 


212 


DEUCALION. 


as  I  can,  the  enigmatical  tone  of  my  own  books,  by  collecting 
the  sum  of  the  facts  they  contain,  partly  by  indices,  partly  in 
abstracts,  and  so  leaving  what  I  myself  have  seen  or  known, 
distinctly  told,  for  what  use  it  may  plainly  serve. 

For  a  first  step  in  the  fulfilment  of  this  intention,  some 
explanation  of  the  circumstances  under  which  the  preceding- 
lecture  (on  the  serpent)  was  prepared,  and  of  the  reasons  for 
its  insertion  in  '  Deucalion,'  are  due  to  the  reader,  who  may 
have  thought  it  either  careless  in  its  apparent  jesting,  or  ir- 
relevant in  its  position. 

I  happened  to  be  present  at  the  lecture  given  on  the  same 
subject,  a  few  weeks  before,  by  Professor  Huxley,  in  which 
the  now  accepted  doctrine  of  development  was  partly  used  in 
support  of  the  assertion  that  serpents  were  lizards  which  had 
lost  their  legs  ;  and  partly  itself  supported  reciprocally,  by 
the  probability  which  the  lecturer  clearly  showed  to  exist, 
of  their  being  so. 

Without  denying  this  probability,  or  entering  at  all  into 
the  question  of  the  links  between  the  present  generation  of 
animal  life  and  that  preceding  it,  my  own  lecture  was  in- 
tended to  exhibit  another  series,  not  of  merely  probable,  but 
of  observable,  facts,  in  the  relation  of  living  animals  to  each 
other. 

And  in  doing  so,  to  define,  more  intelligibly  than  is  usual 
among  naturalists,  the  disputed  idea  of  Species  itself. 

As  I  wrote  down  the  several  points  to  be  insisted  on,  I 
found  they  would  not  admit  of  being  gravely  treated,  unless 
at  extreme  cost  of  pains  and  time — not  to  say  of  weariness  to 
my  audience.  Do  what  I  would  with  them,  the  facts  them- 
selves were  still  superficially  comic,  or  at  least  grotesque  :  and 
in  the  end  I  had  to  let  them  have  their  own  way ;  so  that  the 
lecture  accordingly  became,  apparently,  rather  a  piece  of 
badinage  suggested  by  Professor  Huxley's,  than  a  serious  com- 
plementary statement. 

Nothing,  however,  could  have  been  more  seriously  intended  ; 
and  the  entire  lecture  must  be  understood  as  a  part,  and  a 
very  important  part,  of  the  variously  reiterated  illustration, 
through  all  my  writings,  of  the  harmonies  and  intervals  in  the 


REVISION. 


213 


being  of  the  existent  animal  creation — whether  it  be  developed 
or  undeveloped. 

The  nobly  religious  passion  in  which  Linnaeus  writes  the 
prefaces  and  summaries  of  the  *  Systema  Naturae/  with  the 
universal  and  serene  philanthropy  and  sagacity  of  Humboldt, 
agree  in  leading  them  to  the  optimist  conclusion,  best,  and 
unsurpassably,  expressed  for  ever  in  Pope's  f  Essay  on  Man  ' ; 
and  with  respect  to  lower  creatures,  epigrammatized  in  the 
four  lines  of  George  Herbert, — 

"  God's  creatures  leap  not,  bat  express  a  feast 

Where  all  the  guests  sit  close,  and  nothing  wants. 
Progs  marry  fish  and  flesh  ; — bats,  bird  and  beast, 

Sponges,  non-sense  and  sense,  mines,*  th'  earth  and  plants." 

And  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  these,  and  all  other  good, 
wise,  and  happy  men,  about  the  world  they  live  in,  are 
summed  in  the  104th  Psalm. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  thoughts  of  cruel,  proud,  envious, 
and  unhappy  men,  of  the  Creation,  always  issue  out  of,  and 
gather  themselves  into,  the  shambles  or  the  charnel  house  : 
the  word  £  shambles/  as  I  use  it,  meaning  primarily  the  battle- 
field, and  secondly,  every  spot  where  any  one  rejoices  in  tak- 
ing life  ;  f  and  the  '  charnel  house  '  meaning  collectively,  the 
Morgue,  brothel,  and  vivisection-room. 

But,  lastly,  between  these  two  classes,  of  the  happy  and  the 
heartless,  there  is  a  mediate  order  of  men  both  unhappy  and 
compassionate'  who  have  become  aware  of  another  form  of 
existence  in  the  world,  and  a  domain  of  zoology  extremely 
difficult  of  vivisection, — the  diabolic.  These  men,  of  whom 
Byron,  Burns,  Goethe,  and  Carlyle  are  in  modern  days  the 
chief,  do  not  at  all  feel  that  the  Nature  they  have  to  deal  with 
expresses  a  Feast  only  ;  or  that  her  mysteries  of  good  and 
evil  are  reducible  to  a  quite  visible  Kosmos,  as  they  stand  ; 

*  'Mines'  mean  crystallized  minerals. 

f  Compare  the  Modern  with  the  Ancient  Mariner — gun  versus  cross- 
bow.— "  A  magnificent  albatross  was  soaring  about  at  a  short  distance 
astern,  for  some  time  in  the  afternoon,  and  was  knocked  over,  but  un- 
fortunately not  picked  up."  ('  Natural  History  of  the  Strait  of  MageL 
lan' :  Edmonston  and  Douglas,  1871,  page  225.) 


214 


DEUCALION. 


but  that  there  is  another  Kosmos,  mostly  invisible,  yet  per- 
haps tangible,  and  to  be  felt  if  not  seen.* 

Without  entering,  with  Dr.  Reville  of  Eotterdam,  upon  the 
question  how  men  of  this  inferior  quality  of  intellect  become 
possessed  either  of  the  idea — or  substance — of  what  they  are 
in  the  habit  of  calling  '  the  Devil ' ;  nor  even  into  the  more 
definite  historical  question,  "  how  men  lived  who  did  seriously 
believe  in  the  Devil " — (that  is  to  say,  every  saint  and  sinner 
who  received  a  decent  education  between  the  first  and  the 
seventeenth  centuries  of  the  Christian  eera,) — I  will  merely 
advise  my  own  readers  of  one  fact  respecting  the  above-named 
writers,  of  whom,  and  whose  minds,  I  know  somewhat  more 
than  Dr.  Reville  of  Rotterdam, — that  they,  at  least,  do  not 
use  the  wTord  '  Devil '  in  any  metaphorical,  typical,  or  abstract 
sense,  but — whether  they  believe  or  disbelieve  in  what  they 
say — in  a  distinctly  personal  one  :  and  farther,  that  the  con- 
ceptions or  imaginations  of  these  persons,  or  any  other  such 
persons,  greater  or  less,  yet  of  their  species — whether  they 
are  a  mere  condition  of  diseased  brains,  or  a  perception  of 
really  existent  external  forces, — are  nevertheless  real  Visions 
described  by  them  '  from  the  life/  as  literally  and  straight- 
forwardly as  ever  any  artist  of  Rotterdam  painted  a  sot — or 
his  pot  of  beer  :  and  farther — even  were  we  at  once  to  grant 
that  all  these  visions — as  for  instance  Zechariah's,  "  I  saw  the 
Lord  sitting  on  His  Throne,  and  Satan  standing  at  His  right 
hand  to  resist  Him,"  are  nothing  more  than  emanations  of  the 
unphosphated  nervous  matter — still,  these  states  of  delirium 
are  an  essential  part  of  human  natural  history  :  and  the  species 
of  human  Animal  subject  to  them,  with  the  peculiar  charac- 
ters of  the  phantoms  which  result  from  its  diseases  of  the 
brain,  are  a  much  more  curious  and  important  subject  of 
science  than  that  which  principally  occupies  the  scientific 
mind  of  modern  days — the  species  of  vermin  which  are  the 
product  of  peculiar  diseases  of  the  skin. 

I  state  this,  however,  merely  as  a  necessary  Kosmic  princi- 
ple, without  any  intention  of  attempting  henceforward  to  en- 

*  *  The  Devil  Iris  Origin  Greatness  and  Decadence/  (Sic,  without 
commas,)  Williams  and  Norgate,  1871. 


BRUMA  ABTIFBX. 


215 


gage  my  readers  in  any  department  of  Natural  History  which 
is  outside  of  the  ordinary  range  of  Optics  and  Mechanics  :  but 
if  they  should  turn  back  to  passages  of  my  earlier  books 
which  did  so,  it  must  always  be  understood  that  I  am  just  as 
literal  and  simple  in  language  as  any  of  the  writers  above  re- 
ferred to  :  and  that,  for  instance,  when  in  the  first  volume  of 
'Deucalion,' p.  144-145,  I  say  of  the  Mylodon — "This  crea- 
ture the  Fiends  delight  to  exhibit  to  you,"  I  don't  mean  by  'the 
Fiends '  my  good  and  kind  geological  friends  at  the  British 
Museum,  nor  even  the  architect  who  made  the  drain-pipes 
from  the  posteriors  of  its  gargoyles  the  principal  shafts  in  his 
design  for  the  front  of  the  new  building, — be  it  far  from  me, 
— but  I  do  mean,  distinctly,  Powers  of  supernatural  Mischief, 
such  as  St.  Dunstan,  or  St.  Anthony,  meant  by  the  same  ex- 
pressions. 

With  which  advice  I  must  for  the  present  end  this  bit  of 
explanatory  chapter,  and  proceed  with  some  of  the  glacial 
investigations  relating  only  to  the  Lakes — and  not  to  the  In- 
habitants— whether  of  Coniston  or  Caina. 


CHAPTER  IH. 

BRUMA  ARTIFEX. 

1.  The  frost  of  9th  March,  1879,  suddenly  recurrent  and 
severe,  after  an  almost  Arctic  winter,  found  the  soil  and  rock 
of  my  little  shaded  hill  garden,  at  Brantwood,  chilled  under- 
neath far  down  ;  but  at  the  surface,  saturated  through  every 
cranny  and  pore  with  moisture,  by  masses  of  recently  thawed 
snow. 

The  effect  of  the  acutely  recurrent  frost  on  the  surface  of 
the  gravel  walks,  under  these  conditions,  was  the  tearing  up 
of  their  surface  as  if  by  minutely  and  delicately  explosive 
gases  ;  leaving  the  heavier  stones  imbedded  at  the  bottom  of 
little  pits  fluted  to  their  outline,  and  raising  the  earth  round 
them  in  a  thin  shell  or  crust,  sustained  by  miniature  ranges  of 


216 


DEUCALION. 


"basaltic  pillars  of  ice,  one  range  set  above  another,  with  level 
plates  or  films  of  earth  between  ;  each  tier  of  pillars  some 
half-inch  to  an  inch  in  height,  and  the  storied  architecture  of 
them  two  or  three  inches  altogether  ;  the  little  prismatic  crys- 
tals of  which  each  several  tier  was  composed  being  sometimes 
knit  into  close  masses  with  radiant  silky  lustre,  and  sometimes 
separated  into  tiny,  but  innumerable  shafts,  or  needles,  none 
more  than  the  twentieth  of  an  inch  thick,  and  many  termi- 
nating in  needle-points,  of  extreme  fineness. 

2.  The  soft  mould  of  the  garden  beds,  and  the  crumbling 
earth  in  the  banks  of  streams,  were  still  more  singularly  di- 
vided. The  separate  clods, — often  the  separate  particles, — were 
pushed  up,  or  thrust  asunder,  by  thread-like  crystals,  con- 
torted in  the  most  fantastic  lines,  and  presenting  every  form 
usual  in  twisted  and  netted  chalcedonies,  except  the  definitely 
fluent  or  meltingly  diffused  conditions,  here  of  course  impos- 
sible in  crystallizations  owing  their  origin  to  acute  and  steady 
frost.  The  coils  of  these  minute  fibres  were  also  more  paral- 
lel in  their  swathes  and  sheaves  than  chalcedony  ;  and  more 
lustrous  in  their  crystalline  surfaces  :  those  which  did  not 
sustain  any  of  the  lifted  clods,  usually  terminating  in  fringes 
of  needle-points,  melting  beneath  the  breath  before  they 
could  be  examined  under  the  lens. 

3.  The  extreme  singularity  of  the  whole  structure  la}7,  to 
my  mind,  in  the  fact  that  there  was  nowhere  the  least  vestige 
of  stellar  crystallization.  No  resemblance  could  be  traced, — no 
connection  imagined, — between  these  coiled  sheaves,  or  pil- 
lared aisles,  and  the  ordinary  shootings  of  radiant  films  along 
the  surface  of  calmly  freezing  water,  or  the  symmetrical  arbo- 
rescence  of  hoar-frost  and  snow.  Here  was  an  ice-structure 
wholly  of  the  earth,  earthy  ;  requiring  for  its  development, 
the  weight,  and  for  its  stimulus,  the  interference,  of  clods  or 
particles  of  earth.  In  some  places,  a  small  quantity  of  dust, 
with  a  large  supply  of  subterranean  moisture,  had  been 
enough  to  provoke  the  concretion  of  masses  of  serpentine  fila- 
ments three  or  four  inches  long  ;  but  where  there  was  no 
dust,  there  were  no  filaments,  and  the  ground,  whether  dry 
or  moist,  froze  hard  under  the  foot. 


BRUM  A  ART  IF  EX. 


217 


4.  Greatly  blaming  myself  for  never  having  noticed  this 
structure  before,  I  have  since  observed  it,  with  other  modes 
of  freezing  shown  in  the  streamlets  of  the  best  watered  dis- 
trict of  the  British  Islands, — with  continually  increasing  in- 
terest :  until  nearly  all  the  questions  I  have  so  long  vainly 
asked  myself  and  other  people,  respecting  the  variable  forma- 
tions of  crystalline  minerals,  seem  to  me  visibly  answerable 
by  the  glittering,  and  softly  by  the  voice,  of  even  the  least- 
thought-of  mountain  stream,  as  it  relapses  into  its  wintry 
quietness. 

5.  Thus,  in  the  first  place,  the  action  of  common  opaque 
white  quartz  in  filling  veins,  caused  by  settlement  or  desicca- 
tion, with  transverse  threads,  imperfectly  or  tentatively  crys- 
talline, (those  traversing  the  soft  slates  of  the  Buet  and  Col 
d'Anter  are  peculiarly  characteristic,  owing  to  the  total  ab- 
sence of  lustrous  surface  in  the  filaments,  and  the  tortuous 
aggregation  of  their  nearly  solidified  tiers  or  ranks,)  cannot 
but  receive  some  new  rays  of  light  in  aid  of  its  future  expla- 
nation, by  comparison  with  the  agency  here  put  forth,  before 
our  eyes,  in  the  early  hours  of  a  single  frosty  morning  ;  agency 
almost  measurable  in  force  and  progress,  resulting  in  the 
steady  elevation  of  pillars  of  ice,  bearing  up  an  earthy  roof, 
with  strength  enough  entirely  to  conquer  its  adherence  to 
heavier  stones  imbedded  in  it. 

G.  Again.  While  in  its  first  formation,  lake  or  pool  ice 
throws  itself  always,  on  calm  water,  into  stellar  or  plumose 
films,  shot  in  a  few  instants  over  large  surfaces  ;  or,  in  small 
pools,  filling  them  with  spongy  reticulation  as  the  water  is 
exhausted,  the  final  structure  of  its  compact  mass  is  an  aggre- 
gation of  vertical  prisms,  easily  separable,  when  thick  ice  is 
slowly  thawing :  prisms  neither  formally  divided,  like  those 
of  basalt,  nor  in  any  part  of  their  structure  founded  on  the 
primitive  hexagonal  crystals  of  the  ice ;  but  starch-like,  and 
irregularly  acute-Eingled. 

7.  Icicles,  and  all  other  such  accretions  of  ice  formed  by 
additions  at  the  surface,  by  flowing  or  dropping  water,  are 
filways,  when  unaffected  by  irregular  changes  of  tempera- 
ture or  other  disturbing  accidents,  composed  of  exquisitely 


DEUCALION. 


transparent  vitreous  ice,  (the  water  of  course  being  supposed 
transparent  to  begin  with)  —  compact,  flawless,  absolutely 
smooth  at  the  surface,  and  presenting  on  the  fracture,  to 
the  naked  eye,  no  evidence  whatever  of  crystalline  structure. 
They  will  enclose  living  leaves  of  holly,  fern,  or  ivy,  without 
disturbing  one  fold  or  fringe  of  them,  in  clear  jelly  (if  one 
may  use  the  word  of  anything  frozen  so  hard),  like  the  dainti- 
est candyings  by  Parisian  confectioner's  art,  over  glace  fruit, 
or  like  the  fixed  juice  of  the  white  currant  in  the  perfect  con- 
fiture of  Bar-le-Duc  ; — and  the  frozen  gelatine  melts,  as  it 
forms,  stealthily,  serenely,  showing  no  vestige  of  its  crystal- 
line power  ;  pushing  nowhere,  pulling  nowhere ;  revealing 
in  dissolution,  no  secrets  of  its  structure  ;  affecting  flexile 
branches  and  foliage  only  by  its  weight,  and  letting  them 
rise  when  it  has  passed  away,  as  they  rise  after  being  bowed 
under  rain. 

8.  But  ice,  on  the  contrary,  formed  by  an  unfailing  supply 
of  running  water  over  a  rock  surface,  increases,  not  from  above, 
but  from  beneath.  The  stream  is  never  displaced  by  the  ice,  and 
forced  to  run  over  it,  but  the  ice  is  always  lifted  by  the  stream  ; 
and  the  tiniest  runlet  of  water  keeps  its  own  rippling  way  on 
the  rock  as  long  as  the  frost  leaves  it  life  to  run  with.  In 
most  cases,  the  tricklings  which  moisten  large  rock  surfaces 
are  supplied  by  deep  under-drainage  which  no  frost  can  reach  ; 
and  then,  the  constant  welling  forth  and  wimpling  down  of 
the  perennial  rivulet,  seen  here  and  there  under  its  ice,  glit- 
tering in  timed  pulses,  steadily,  and  with  a  strength  according 
to  the  need,  and  practically  infinite,  heaves  up  the  accumu- 
lated bulk  of  chalcedony  it  has  formed,  in  masses  a  foot  or 
a  foot  and  a  half  thick,  if  the  frost  hold ;  but  always  more 
or  less  opaque  in  consequence  of  the  action  of  the  sun  and 
wind,  and  the  superficial  additions  by  adhering  snow  or  sleet ; 
until  the  slowly  nascent,  silently  uplifted,  but  otherwise  mo- 
tionless glaciers, — here  taking  casts  of  the  crags,  and  fitted 
into  their  finest  crannies  with  more  than  sculptor's  care,  and 
anon  extended  in  rugged  undulation  over  moss  or  shale,  cover 
the  oozy  slopes  of  our  moorlands  with  statues  of  cascades, 
where,  even  in  the  wildest  floods  of  autumn,  cascade  is  not. 


BRUM  A  ARTIFEX. 


219 


9.  Actual  waterfalls,  when  their  body  of  water  is  great,  and 
much  of  it  reduced  to  finely  divided  mist,  build  or  block  them- 
selves up,  during  a  hard  winter,  with  disappointingly  ponder- 
ous and  inelegant  incrustations, — I  regret  to  say  more  like 
messes  of  dropped  tallow  than  any  work  of  water-nymphs, 
But  a  small  cascade,  falling  lightly,  and  shattering  itself  only 
into  drops,  will  always  do  beautiful  things,  and  often  incom- 
prehensible ones.  After  some  fortnight  or  so  of  clear  frost  in 
one  of  our  recent  hard  winters  at  Coniston,  a  fall  of  about 
twenty-five  feet  in  the  stream  of  Leathes-water,  beginning 
with  general  glass  basket-making  out  of  all  the  light  grasses 
at  its  sides,  built  for  itself  at  last  a  complete  veil  or  vault  of 
finely  interwoven  ice,  under  which  it  might  be  seen,  when  the 
embroidery  was  finished,  falling  tranquilly  :  its  strength  being 
then  too  far  subdued  to  spoil  by  overloading  or  over-labouring 
the  poised  traceries  of  its  incandescent  canopy. 

10.  I  suppose  the  component  substance  of  this  vault  to  have 
been  that  of  ordinary  icicle,  varied  only  in  direction  by  infinite 
accidents  of  impact  in  the  flying  spray.  But  without  includ- 
ing any  such  equivocal  structures,  we  have  already  counted 
five  stages  of  ice  familiar  to  us  all,  yet  not  one  of  which  has 
been  accurately  described,  far  less  explained.  Namely, 

(1)  Common  deep-water  surface  ice,  increased  from  beneath, 
and  floating,  but,  except  in  the  degrees  of  its  own  expansion, 
not  uplifted. 

(2)  Surface  ice  on  pools  of  streams,  exhausting  the  water  as 
it  forms,  and  adherent  to  the  stones  at  its  edge.  Variously 
increased  in  crusts  and  films  of  spongy  network 

(3)  Ice  deposited  by  external  flow  or  fall  of  water  in  super- 
added layers — exogen  ice, — on  a  small  scale,  vitreous,  and 
perfectly  compact,  on  a  large  one,  coarsely  stalagmitic,  like 
impure  carbonate  of  lime,  but  I  think  never  visibly  fibrous- 
radiant,  as  stalactitic  lime  is. 

(4)  Endogen  ice,  formed  from  beneath  by  tricklings  over 
ground  surface. 

(5)  Capillary  ice,  extant  from  pores  in  the  ground  itself,  and 
carrying  portions  of  it  up  with  its  crystals. 

11.  If  to  these  five  modes  of  slowly  progressive  formation 


220 


DEUCALION, 


we  add  the  swift  and  conclusive  arrest  of  vapour  or  dew  on  a 
chilled  surface,  we  shall  have,  in  all,  six  different  kinds  of 
— terrestrial,  it  may  be  called  as  opposed  to  aerial — conge- 
lation of  water  :  exclusive  of  all  the  atmospheric  phenomena 
of  snow,  hail,  and  the  aggregation  of  frozen  or  freezing  par- 
ticles of  vapour  in  clouds.  Inscrutable  these,  on  our  present 
terms  of  inquiry  ;  but  the  six  persistent  conditions,  formed 
before  our  eyes,  may  be  examined  with  some  chance  of  arriv- 
ing at  useful  conclusions  touching  crystallization  in  general. 

12.  Of  which,  this  universal  principle  is  to  be  first  under- 
stood by  young  people ; — that  every  crystalline  substance  has 
a  brick  of  a  particular  form  to  build  with,  usually,  in  some 
angle  or  modification  of  angle,  quite  the  mineral's  own  special 
property, — and  if  not  absolutely  peculiar  to  it,  at  least  pecul- 
iarly used  by  it.  Thus,  though  the  brick  of  gold,  and  that  of 
the  ruby-coloured  oxide  of  copper,  are  alike  cubes,  yet  gold 
grows  trees  with  its  bricks,  and  ruby  copper  weaves  samite 
with  them.  Gold  cannot  plait  samite,  nor  ruby  copper 
branch  into  trees  ;  and  ruby  itself,  with  a  far  more  convenient 
and  adaptable  form  of  brick,  does  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other.  But  ice,  which  has  the  same  form  of  bricks  to  build 
with  as  ruby,  can,  at  its  pleasure,  bind  them  into  branches,  or 
wTeave  them  into  wrool ;  buttress  a  polar  cliff  with  adamant,  or 
flush  a  dome  of  Alp  with  light  lovlier  than  the  ruby's. 

13.  You  see,  I  have  written  above,  'ruby/  as  I  write  'gold s 
or  ice,  not  calling  their  separate  crystals,  rubies,  or  golds,  or 
ices.  For  indeed  the  laws  of  structure  hitherto  ascertained 
by  mineralogists  have  not  shown  us  any  essential  difference 
between  substances  which  crystallize  habitually  in  symmet- 
rical detached  figures,  seeming  to  be  some  favourite  arrange- 
ment of  the  figures  of  their  primary  molecules ;  and  those 
which,  like  ice,  only  under  rare  circumstances  give  clue  to  the 
forms  of  their  true  crystals,  but  habitually  show  themselves 
in  accumulated  mass,  or  complex  and  capricious  involution. 
Of  course  the  difference  may  be  a  question  only  of  time ;  and 
the  sea,  cooled  slowly  enough,  might  build  bergs  of  hexagonal 
ice-prisms  as  tall  as  Cleopatra's  needle,  and  as  broad  as  the 
tower  of  Windsor  ;  but  the  time  and  temperature  required, 


BRUM  A  ART  IF  EX. 


221 


by  any  given  mineral,  for  its  successful  constructions  of  form, 
are  of  course  to  be  noted  among  the  conditions  of  its  history, 
and  stated  in  the  account  of  its  qualities. 

14.  Neither,  hitherto,  has  any  sufficient  distinction  been 
made  between  properly  crystalline  and  properly  cleavage 
planes.*  The  first  great  laws  of  crystalline  form  are  given 
by  Miller  as  equally  affecting  both  ;  but  the  conditions  of  sub- 
stance which  have  only  so  much  crystalline  quality  as  to 
break  in  directions  fixed  at  given  angles,  are  manifestly  to  be 
distinguished  decisively  from  those  which  imply  an  effort  in 
the  substance  to  collect  itself  into  a  form  terminated  at  sym- 
metrical distances  from  a  given  centre.  The  distinction  is 
practically  asserted  by  the  mineral  itself,  since  it  is  seldom 
that  any  substance  has  a  cleavage  parallel  to  more  than  one 
or  two  of  its  planes  :  and  it  is  forced  farther  on  our  notice  by 
the  ragged  lustres  of  true  cleavage  planes  like  those  of  mica, 
opposed  to  the  serene  bloom  of  the  crystalline  surfaces  formed 
by  the  edges  of  the  folia. 

15.  Yet  farther.  The  nature  of  cleavage  planes  in  definitely 
crystalline  minerals  connects  itself  by  imperceptible  grada- 
tions with  that  of  the  surfaces  produced  by  mechanical  sepa- 
ration in  their  masses  consolidating  from  fusion  or  solution. 
It  is  now  thirty  years,  and  more,  since  the  question  whether 
the  forms  of  the  gneissitic  buttresses  of  Mont  Blanc  were 
owing  to  cleavage  or  stratification,  became  matter  of  debate 
between  leading  members  of  the  Geological  Society  ;  and  it 
remains  to  this  day  an  undetermined  one  !  In  succeeding 
numbers  of  'Deucalion,'  I  shall  reproduce,  according  to  my 
promise  in  the  introduction,  the  chapters  of  'Modern  Painters ' 
which  first  put  this  question  into  clear  form  ;  the  drawings 
which  had  been  previously  given  by  de  Saussure  and  other 
geologists  having  never  been  accurate  enough  to  explain  the 
niceties  of  rock  structure  to  their  readers,  although,  to  their 
own  eyes  on  this  spot,  the  conditions  of  form  had  been  per- 
fectly clear.  I  see  nothing  to  alter  either  in  the  text  of  these 
chapters,  written  during  the  years  1845  to  1850,  or  in  the 
plates  and  diagrams  by  which  they  were  illustrated  ;  and 

f  See  vol.  i.,  chap,  xiv.,  20-22. 


222 


DEUCALION. 


hitherto,  the  course  of  geological  discovery  has  given  me,  I 
regret  to  say,  nothing  to  add  to  them  :  but  the  methods  of 
microscopic  research  originated  by  Mr.  Sorby,  cannot  but 
issue,  in  the  hands  of  the  next  de  Saussure,  in  some  trust- 
worthy interpretation  of  the  great  phenomena  of  Alpine 
form. 

16.  I  have  just  enough  space  left  in  this  chapter  to  give 
some  illustrations  of  the  modes  of  crystalline  increment  which 
are  not  properly  subjects  of  mathematical  definition  ;  but  are 
variable,  as  in  the  case  of  the  formations  of  ice  above  described, 
by  accidents  of  situation,  and  by  the  modes  and  quantities  of 
material  supply. 

17.  More  than  a  third  of  all  known  minerals  crystallize  in 
forms  developed  from  original  molecules  which  can  be  ar- 
ranged in  cubes  and  octahedrons  ;  and  it  is  the  peculiarity  of 
these  minerals  that  whatever  the  size  of  their  crystals,  so  far 
as  they  are  perfect,  they  are  of  equal  diameter  in  every  di- 
rection ;  they  may  be  square  blocks  or  round  balls,  but  do 
not  become  pillars  or  cylinders.  A  diamond,  from  which  the 
crystalline  figure  familiar  on  our  playing  cards  has  taken  its 
popular  name,  be  it  large  or  small,  is  still  a  diamond,  in  figure 
as  well  as  in  substance,  and  neither  divides  into  a  star,  nor 
lengthens  into  a  needle. 

18.  But  the  remaining  two-thirds  of  mineral  bodies  resolve 
themselves  into  groups,  which,  under  many  distinctive  con- 
ditions, have  this  in  common, — that  they  consist  essentially 
of  pillars  terminating  in  pyramids  at  both  ends.  A  diamond 
of  ordinary  octahedric  type  may  be  roughly  conceived  as  com- 
posed of  two  pyramids  set  base  to  base  ;  and  nearly  all  min- 
erals belonging  to  other  systems  than  the  cubic,  as  composed 
of  two  pyramids  with  a  tower  between  them.  The  pyramids 
may  be  four-sided,  six-sided,  eight-sided ;  the  tower  may  be 
tall,  or  short,  or,  though  rarely,  altogether  absent,  leaving  the 
crystal  a  diamond  of  its  own  sort ;  nevertheless,  the  primal 
separation  of  the  double  pyramid  from  the  true  tower  with 
pyramid  at  both  ends,  will  hold  good  for  all  practice,  and  to 
all  sound  intelligence. 

19.  Now,  so  long  as  it  is  the  law  for  a  mineral,  that  how- 


Fig  1-  Fig.  2 


Plate  X. — Modes  of  Crystalline  Increment. 


BRUM  A  ART1FEX. 


223 


ever  large  it  may  be,  its  form  shall  be  the  same,  we  have  only 
crystallographic  questions  respecting  the  modes  of  its  increase. 
But  when  it  has  the  choice  whether  it  will  be  tall  or  short, 
stout  or  slender,  and  also  whether  it  will  grow  at  one  end  or 
the  other,  a  number  of  very  curious  conditions  present  them- 
selves, unconnected  with  crystallography  proper,  but  bearing 
much  on  the  formation  and  aspect  of  rocks. 

20.  Let  a,  fig.  1,  plate  X.,  be  the  section  of  a  crystal  formed 
by  a  square  tower  one-third  higher  than  it  is  broad,  and 
having  a  pyramid  at  each  end  half  as  high  as  it  is  broad. 
Such  a  form  is  the  simplest  general  type  of  average  crystalline 
dimension,  not  cubic,  that  we  can  take  to  start  with. 

Now  if,  as  at  b,  we  suppose  the  crystal  to  be  enlarged  by 
the  addition  of  equal  thickness  or  depth  of  material  on  all  its 
surfaces, — in  the  figure  its  own  thickness  is  added  to  each 
side, — as  the  process  goes  on,  the  crystal  will  gradually  lose 
its  elongated  shape,  'and  approximate  more  and  more  to  that 
of  a  regular  hexagon.  If  it  is  to  retain  its  primary  shape,  the 
additions  to  its  substance  must  be  made  on  the  diagonal  lines 
dotted  across  the  angles,  as  at  c,  and  be  always  more  at  the 
ends  than  at  the  flanks.  But  it  may  chance  to  determine  the 
additions  wholly  otherwise,  and  to  enlarge,  as  at  d,  on  the 
flanks  instead  of  the  points  ;  or,  as  at  e,  losing  all  relation  to 
the  original  form,  prolong  itself  at  the  extremities,  giving 
little,  or  perhaps  nothing,  to  its  sides.  Or,  lastly,  it  may  alter 
the  axis  of  growth  altogether,  and  build  obliquely,  as  at  /,  on 
one  or  more  planes  in  opposite  directions. 

21.  All  the  effective  structure  and  aspect  of  crystalline  sub- 
stances depend  on  these  caprices  of  their  aggregation.  The 
crystal  of  amethyst  of  which  a  longitudinal  section  is  given  in 
plate  X.,  fig.  2,  is  more  visibly,  by  help  of  its  amethyst  stain- 
ing,)  but  not  more  frequently  or  curiously,  modified  by  acci- 
dent than  any  common  prism  of  rough  quartz  will  be  usually 
found  on  close  examination  ;  but  in  this  example,  the  various 
humours,  advances,  and  pauses  of  the  stone  are  all  traced  for 
us  by  its  varying  blush  ;  and  it  is  seen  to  have  raised  itself  in 
successive  layers  above  the  original  pyramid — always  thin  at 
the  sides,  and  oblique  at  the  summit,  and  apparently  endeav* 


224 


DEUCALION. 


ouring  to  educate  the  rectilinear  impulses  of  its  being  into 
compliance  with  a  beautiful  imaginary  curve. 

22.  Of  prisms  more  successful  in  this  effort,  and  constructed 
finally  with  smoothly  curved  sides,  as  symmetrical  in  their 
entasis  as  a  Greek  pillar,  it  is  easy  to  find  examples  in  opaque 
quartz — (not  in  transparent*) — but  no  quartz  crystal  ever 
bends  the  vertical  axis  as  it  grows,  if  the  prismatic  structure  is 
complete  ;  while  yet  in  the  imperfect  and  fibrous  state  above 
spoken  of,  §  5,  and  mixed  with  clay  in  the  flammeate  forms  of 
jasper,  undulation  becomes  a  law  of  its  being ! 

23.  These  habits,  faculties,  and  disabilities  of  common  quartz 
are  of  peculiar  interest  when  compared  with  the  totally  differ- 
ent nature  and  disposition  of  ice,  though  belonging  to  the  same 
crystalline  system.  The  rigidly  and  limitedly  mathematical 
mind  of  Cloizeaux  passes  without  notice  the  mystery,  and  the 


marvel,  implied  in  his  own  brief  statement  of  its  elementary 
form  "  Frisme  hexagonal  regidier"  Why 'regular'?  All  crys- 
tals belonging  to  the  hexagonal  system  are  necessarily  regular, 
in  the  equality  of  their  angles.  But  ice  is  regular  also  in  di- 
mensions. A  prism  of  quartz  or  calcite  may  be  of  the  form  a 
on  the  section,  Fig.  6,f  or  of  the  form  b  ;  but  ice  is  always 
true — like  c,  as  a  bee's  cell — '  prisme  regulier.' 

So  again,  Cloizeaux  tells  us  that  ice  habitually  is  formed  in 
' tables  hexagonales  minces.'  But  why  thin  ? — and  hoiv  thin  ? 
What  proportion  of  surface  to  edge  was  in  his  mind  as  he 
wrote,  undefined?  The  square  plates  of  uranite,  the  hex- 
agonal folia  of  mica,  are  6  minces '  in  a  quite  different  sense. 
They  can  be  seen  separately,  or  in  masses  which  are  distinctly 

*  Smoky  quartz,  or  even  Cairngorm,  will  sometimes  curve  the  sides 
parallel  to  the  axis,  but  (I  think)  pure  white  quartz  never. 

f  I  think  it  best  to  number  my  woodcuts  consecutively  through  the 
whole  work,  as  the  plates  also ;  but  fig.  5  is  a  long  way  back,  p.  11?, 
vol.  i.    Some  further  notes  on  it  will  be  found  in  the  next  chapter. 


a 


b 

Fig.  6. 


c 


Plate  XI. — The  Olympian  Lightning. 


BRUM  A  ART  IF  EX. 


225 


separable.  But  the  "prisme  hexagonale  mince,  regulier"  of 
ice  cannot  be  split  into  thinner  plates — cannot  be  built  into 
longer  prishis  ;  but,  as  we  have  seen,  when  it  builds,  is  fantas- 
tic in  direction,  sudden  in  force,  endlessly  complex  in  form. 

24.  Here,  for  instance,  fig.  7,  is  the  outline  of  one  of  the 
sjHculse  of  incipient  surface  ice,  formed  by  sharp  frost  on  calm 
water  already  cooled  to  the  freezing  point.  I  have  seen  liter- 
ally clouds  of  surface  ice  woven  of  these  barbed  arrows,  shot, 
— or  breathed,  across  half  a  mile  of  lake  in  ten  minutes.  And 
every  barb  of  them  itself  a  miracle  of  structure,  complex  as  an 
Alpine  peak. 

These  spicule  float  with  their  barbs  downwards,  like  keels, 
and  form  guiding  ribs  above  like  those  of  leaves,  between 
which  the  entire  surface  of  the  water  becomes  laminated  ;  but, 
as  it  does  so,  the  spiculse  get  pushed  up  into  little  mountain 

^^^^^ 

Fig.  7. 

ridges,  always  steeper  on  one  side  than  the  other — barbed  on 
the  steep  side,  laminated  on  the  other — and  radiating  more  or 
less  trigonally  from  little  central  cones,  which  are  raised  above 
the  water-surface  with  hollow  spaces  underneath. 

And  it  is  all  done  with  '  prismes  hexagonales  reguliers 9 ! 

25.  Done, — and  sufficiently  explained,  in  Professor  Tyndall's 
imagination,  by  the  poetical  conception  of  ■  six  poles 1  for  every 
hexagon  of  ice.*  Perhaps !— if  one  knew  first  what  a  pole  was. 
itself — and  how  many,  attractive,  or  repulsive,  to  the  east  and 
to  the  west,  as  well  as  to  the  north  and  the  south — one  might 
institute  in  imaginative  science — at  one's  pleasure  ; — thus  also 
allowing  a  rose  five  poles  for  its  five  petals,  and  a  wallflower 
four  for  its  four,  and  a  lily  three,  and  a  hawkweed  thirteen. 
In  the  meantime,  we  will  return  to  the  safer  guidance  of  primal 
mythology. 

26.  The  opposite  plate  (XI.)  has  been  both  drawn  and  en- 
graved, with  very  happy  success,  from  a  small  Greek  coin,  n 

*  4  Forms  of  Water,7  in  the  chapter  on  snow.  The  discovery  is  an< 
nounced,  with  much  self-applause,  as  an  important  step  in  science. 


226 


DEUCALION. 


drachma  of  Elis,  by  my  good  publisher's  son,  Hugh  Allen.  It 
is  the  best  example  I  know  of  the  Greek  type  of  lightning, 
grasped  or  gathered  in  the  hand  of  Zeus.  In  ordinary  coins 
or  gems,  it  is  composed  merely  of  three  flames  or  forked  rays, 
alike  at  both  extremities.  But  in  this  Eleian  thunderbolt, 
when  the  letters  F.A.  (the  old  form  of  beginning  the  name  of 
the  Eleian  nation  with  the  di gamma)  are  placed  upright,  the 
higher  extremity  of  the  thunderbolt  is  seen  to  be  twisted,  in 
sign  of  the  whirlwind  of  electric  storm,  while  its  lower  ex- 
tremity divides  into  three  symmetrical  lobes,  like  those  of  a 
flower,  with  spiral  tendrils  from  the  lateral  points  :  as  con- 
stantly the  honeysuckle  ornament  on  vases,  and  the  other 
double  groups  of  volute  completed  in  the  Ionic  capital,  and 
passing  through  minor  forms  into  the  earliest  recognizable 
types  of  the  fleur-de-lys. 

27.  The  intention  of  the  twisted  rays  to  express  the  action 
of  storm  is  not  questionable — "tres  imbris  torti  radios,  et 
alitis  austri."  But  there  can  also  be  little  doubt  that  the 
tranquillities  of  line  in  the  lower  divisions  of  the  symbol  are 
intended  to  express  the  vital  and  formative  power  of  electricity 
in  its  terrestrial  currents.  If  my  readers  will  refer  to  the 
chapter  in  '  Proserpina  '  on  the  roots  of  plants,  they  will  find 
reasons  suggested  for  concluding  that  the  root  is  not  merely  a 
channel  of  material  nourishment  to  the  plant,  but  has  a  vital 
influence  by  mere  contact  with  the  earth,  which  the  Greek 
probably  thought  of  as  depending  on  the  conveyance  of  ter- 
restrial electricity.  We  know,  to  this  day,  little  more  of  the 
great  functions  of  this  distributed  fire  than  he  :  nor  how 
much,  while  we  subdue  or  pervert  it  to  our  vulgar  uses,  we 
are  in  every  beat  of  the  heart  and  glance  of  the  eye,  depen- 
dent, with  the  herb  of  the  field  and  the  crystal  of  the  hills,  on 
the  aid  of  its  everlasting  force.  If  less  than  this  was  implied 
by  the  Olympian  art  of  olden  time,  we  have  at  least,  since, 
learned  enough  to  read,  for  ourselves  his  symbol,  into  the 
higher  faith,  that,  in  the  hand  of  the  Father  of  heaven,  the 
lightning  is  not  for  destruction  only ;  but  glows,  with  a 
deeper  strength  than  the  sun's  heat  or  the  stars'  light,  through 
all  the  forms  of  matter,  to  purify  them,  to  direct,  and  to  save. 


USTDEX  TO  YOL.  I. 


Agate,  82,  83.  See  Chalcedony;  also,  if  possible,  the  papers  on  this 
subject  in  the  Geological  Magazine,  vol.  iv.,  Nos.  8  and  11  ;  v.,  Nos. 
1,  4,  5  ;  vi.,  No.  12  ;  and  vii.,  No.  1  ;  and  Pebbles. 

Ages  of  Rocks,  not  to  be  denned  in  the  catalogue  of  a  practical  Museum, 
106.  • 

Alabaster,  sacred  uses  of,  78. 

Alabastron,  the  Greek  vase  so  called,  78,  88. 

Alps,  general  structure  of,  11,  154  ;  are  not  best  seen  from  their  highest 
points,  12  ;  general  section  of,  13  ;  violence  of  former  energies  in 
sculpture  of,  20 ;  Bernese  chain  of,  seen  from  the  Simplon,  120  ; 
sections  of,  given  by  Studer  examined,  157,  158. 

Anatomy,  study  of,  hurtful  to  the  finest  art-perceptions,  11  ;  of  minerals, 
distinct  from  their  history,  125. 

Amethyst,  90  ;  and  see  Hyacinth. 

Angelo,  Monte  St. ,  near  Naples,  30. 

Angels,  and  fiends,  contention  of,  for  souls  of  children,  144. 
Anger,  and  vanity,  depressing  influence  of,  on  vital  energies,  5,  6. 
Argent,  the  Heraldic  metal,  meaning  of,  91. 
Arrangement,  permanence  of,  how  necessary  in  Museums,  107. 
Artist,  distinction  between,  and  man  of  science,  24  ;  how  to  make  one, 
79. 

Athena,  her  eyes  of  the  colour  of  sunset  sky,  78. 

Banded  structure,  in  rocks,  116. 

Baptism,  chimes  in  rejoicing  for,  at  Maglans,  58. 

Bdellium,  meaning  of  the  word,  76. 

Bell- Alp,  hotel  lately  built  on,  its  relation  to  ancient  hospice  of  Simplon, 
109. 

Bells,  sweetness  of  their  sound  among  mountains,  58. 
Beauty,  more  at  hand  than  can  ever  be  seen,  71. 
Benedict,  St.,  laments  decline  of  his  order,  111. 

Bernard,  St.,  labours  of,  89  ;  sermons  of,  94 ;  his  coming  to  help 

Dante,  112. 
Berne,  town  of,  scenery  in  its  canton,  13. 


228 


INDEX. 


Bionnassay,  aiguille  of,  its  beauty,  19.    In  the  25th  line  of  that  page, 

for  1  buttresses/  read  'buttress.' 
Blue,  how  represented  in  Heraldry,  89. 

Bischof,  G-ustav,  facts  of  mineral  formation  collected  by,  as  yet  in- 
sufficient, 111. 

Bowerbank,  Mr.,  exhaustive  examination  of  flint  fossils  by,  112. 
Breccia,  (but  for  'breccia'  in  these  pages,  read  'conglomerate  ')  of  the 

outmost  Bernese  Alps,  16,  17. 
Brientz,  lake  and  valley  of,  14. 
Brunig,  pass  of,  14. 

Bunney,  Mr.  J.,  drawing  in  Yenice  by,  96. 

Carbuncle,  meaning  of  the  stone  in  Heraldry,  91. 
Chalcedony,  formation  of,  109 ;  general  account  of,  122. 
Chalk,  formation  of,  in  the  Alps,  13. 

Chamouni,  valley  of,  its  relation  to  the  valley-system  of  the  Alps,  14. 
Channels  of  rivers,  formation  of,  52,  136  ;  and  compare  with  p.  52  Mr. 

Clifton  Ward  s  account  of  the  denudation  of  the  Lake  district, 

Geological  Magazine,  vol.  vii.,  p.  16. 
Chede,  lake  of,  its  destruction,  29. 

Cleavage,  general  discussion  of  subject  opens,  158 ;  definition  of  the 

several  kinds  of,  166. 
Cliffs  of  the  Bay  of  Uri,  61. 

Clifton  Ward,  Rev.  Mr.,  justice  of  his  observations  on  glaciation  of 
Lake  district,  32 ;  examination  of  agate  structure  by,  111  ;  con- 
tinued, 125,  147  ;  completed,  150  ;  note  on  cleavage  by,  159. 

Cluse,  valley  of,  in  Savoy,  described,  58. 

Colour,  perception  of,  its  relation  to  health  and  temper,  85,  95  ;  di* 

visions  and  order  of,  86  ;  Heraldic,  antiquity  of,  87. 
Como,  lake  and  valley  of,  15. 

Conglomerate  of  the  Alps,  16 ;  and  in  the  6th  line  of  that  page,  fof 

4  breccia,'  read  1  conglomerate.' 
Coniston,  rocks  and  lake  of,  136. 

Contortion  of  Strata,  17,  19 ;  observations  on  by  Mr.  Henry  Willett, 
117  ;  assumptions  respecting  the  "  Plissement  de  la  croute  terrestre," 
by  M.  Violet-le-Duc,  109  ;  general  question  of,  139-140 ;  practical 
experiments  in  imitation  of,  141,  160.  Compare  Saussure,  Voy- 
ages, §  35,  1801,  1802. 

Controversy,  fatal  consequences  of,  5. 

Crystal,  Scriptural  references  to  77  ;  construction  of,  81. 

Crystallization,  mystery  of,  80  ;  terms  of  its  description,  125.  Compart 
'  Ethics  of  the  Dust,'  passim  ;  but  especially  chap.  iii. 

Curve  of  ice -velocities,  51. 

Dante,  use  of,  the  Divina  Commedia  in  mental  purification,  111. 
Debate,  mischievousness  of,  to  young  people,  71. 


INDEX. 


229 


Defiles,  transverse,  of  Alps,  14. 

Deundation,  first  opening  of  discussion  upon,  130  ;  obscurity  of  the 
geological  expression,  131  ;  apparent  violence  of  its  indiscriminate 
action,  138.  See  above,  Channels ;  and  compare  *  Modern  Painters,' 
vol.  iv.,  p.  110. 

Design  of  ornament,  how  obtainable,  98. 

4 Deucalion'  and  *  Proserpina,'  reasons  for  choice  of  these  names  for 

the  author's  final  works,  8. 
Devil,  influence  of  the,  in  modern  education,  144. 
Dew,  Arabian  delight  in,  76. 

Diamond,  its  meaning  in  Heraldry,  91 ;  the  story  of  diamond  necklace, 
moral  of,  97. 

Dilatation,  theory  of,  in  glaciers,  its  absurdity,  115  ;  the  bed  of  the  Mer 

de  Glace,  considered  as  a  thermometer  tube,  116. 
Dover,  cliffs  of,  operations  which  would  be  needful  to  construct  Alps 

with  them,  20 ;  imagined  results  of  their  softness,  139. 

Edinburgh  Castle,  geology  of  its  rock,  27. 
Emerald,  meaning  of,  in  Heraldry,  89. 
English,  how  to  write  it  best,  142. 
Erosion,  how  far  the  idea  of  it  is  exaggerated,  31. 

Esdras,  second  book  of,  curious  verse  in  its  5th  chapter,  probable  inter- 
pretation of,  8. 

Essence  (real  being)  of  things,  is  in  what  they  can  do  and  suffer,  73. 
'Evenings  at  Home,'  quoted,  22. 

Excess  in  quantity,  harm  of,  in  Museum  collections  for  educational  pur- 
poses, 107. 
Expansion.    See  Dilatation. 

Eyes,  their  use,  a  nobler  art  than  that  of  using  microscopes,  22  ;  colour 
of  Athena's,  78. 

Facts,  how  few,  generally  trustworthy,  yet  ascertained  respecting  min- 
eral formation,  110. 
Faraday,  Professor,  discovery  of  regelation  by,  34. 

Fissures  in  chalk  containing  flints,  and  traversing  the  flints,  described 
by  Mr.  Henry  Willett,  102,  107. 

Flint,  essential  characters  of,  73  ;  account  of,  carefully  instituted  by 
Mr.  H.  Willett,  110;  no  one  knows  yet  how  secreted,  112;  dis- 
placed veins  of,  101,  103. 

Forbes,  Professor  James,  of  Edinburgh,  discovers  the  law  of  glacier  mo- 
tion, 41  ;  his  survey  of  the  Mer  de  Glace,  66  ;  general  notices  of,  33? 
64  ;  the  Author's  meeting  with,  108. 

Flowing,  difficulty  of  defining  the  word,  43. 

Fluids,  the  laws  of  their  motion  not  yet  known,  69. 

Fractures  of  flint,  difficulties  in  explaining,  102-107. 


230 


INDEX. 


Geology,  the  Author's  early  attachment  to,  6  ;  not  needfut  to  artists, 
but  rather  injurious,  11  ;  modern  errors  in  developing,  60. 

Glaciers,  are  fluent  bodies,  32  ;  do  not  cut  their  beds  deeper,  but  fill 
them  up,  34,  53  ;  original  deposition  of,  35  ;  summary  of  laws  of 
motion  in,  41  ;  rate  of  motion  in,  how  little  conceivable  in  slow- 
ness, 42  ;  drainage  of  higher  valleys  by,  42  ;  rising  of  their  surface 
in  winter,  how  accounted  for,  68 ;  false  theories  respecting,  illus- 
trated, 115,  116.  Compare  also  Tors  Clavigera,'  Letters  xxxiv., 
pp.  88-94,  and  xxxv. ,  pp.  112-114. 

Gold,  special  mechanical  qualities  of,  62  ;  need  for  instruction  in  its 
use,  79  ;  mystery  of  its  origin,  80 ;  nomenclature  of  its  forms, 
105. 

Gondo,  defile  of,  in  the  Simplon  pass,  14. 

Good  and  Evil  in  spiritual  natures,  how  discernible,  23,  144. 

Greek-English  words,  barbarism  of,  142. 

Green,  how  represented  in  Heraldry,  89. 

Grey,  meaning  of,  in  Heraldry,  82. 

Gula,  mediaeval  use  of  the  word,  94. 

Gules,  meaning  of  the  colour  so  called,  in  Heraldry,  82. 

Honey,  use  of,  in  experiments  on  glacier  motion,  68,  140. 
Hyacinth,  the  precious  stone  so  called,  meaning  of  in  Heraldry,  92. 
Heraldry,  nobleness  of,  as  a  language,  95  ;  order  of  colours  in,  88  ;  of 
the  sky,  99. 

Hyalite,  transition  of,  into  chalcedony,  121-123. 

Ice,  (of  glaciers)  will  stretch,  47  ;  is  both  plastic  and  viscous,  64.  See 
Glacier. 

Interlachen,  village  of,  stands  on  the  soil  deposited  by  the  stream  from 

Lauterbrunnen,  21  ;  duty  of  geologists  at,  166. 
Iris  of  the  Earth,  62  ;  the  Messenger,  87. 
Imps,  not  to  be  bottled  by  modern  chemists,  143. 
Iacinth.    See  Hyacinth. 

Jasper,  Heraldic  meaning  of,  89. 

Jewels,  holiness  of,  79,  84;  delighted  in  by  religious  painters,  98  ;  duty 

of  distributing,  99. 
Jones,  Mr.  Rupert,  summary  of  mineralogical  work  by,  111. 
Judd,  Mr.  J.  W.,  notice  of  geology  of  Edinburgh  by,  27. 
Jungfrau,  view  of,  from  Castle  of  Manfred,  166. 

Jura  mountains,  view  of  the  Alps  from,  13  ;  section  of,  in  relation  ta 
Alps,  13,  164  ;  limestone  formation  of,  16. 

Kendal,  town  of,  scenery  near,  127. 
Kinnoull,  hill  of,  near  Perth,  agates  in,  82. 


INDEX. 


231 


Knighthood,  Christian,  its  faithfulness  to  Peace,  85. 
Knots  of  siliceous  rock,  nature  of,  113. 

Knowledge,  how  shortened  by  impatience,  and  blighted  by  debate,  70, 
71. 

Lakes,  level  of,  among  Alps,  15  ;  evacuation  of,  135  ;  English  district 

of,  section  through,  157. 
Landscape,  the  study  of,  little  recommended  by  the  Author  at  Oxford,  10. 
Language,  scientific,  how  to  be  mended,  142  ;  dependence  of,  for  its 

beauty,  on  moral  powers,  95. 
Lauterbrunnen,  valley  of,  21,  166. 
Lava,  definition  of,  119  ;  depth  of,  120. 
Lenticular  curiosity,  vileness  of,  23. 

Leslie,  Mr.  Stephen,  reference  to  unadvised  statements  by,  respecting 

the  achievements  of  Alpine  Club,  11. 
Limestone,  Jura  and  Mountain,  general  notes  on,  16,  164,  165. 
Lucerne,  lake  of,  reason  of  its  cruciform  plan,  14. 
Lungren,  lake  of,  its  unusual  elevation,  15. 
Lyell,  Sir  Charles,  final  result  of  his  work,  25,  28. 

Maggiore,  lake  and  valley  of,  16. 
Maglans,  village  of,  in  Savoy,  scenery  near,  60. 
Malleson,  the  Rev.  F.  A.,  discovers  rare  form  of  Coniston  slate,  138. 
Manna,  (food  of  the  Israelites,)  reasons  for  its  resemblance  to  crystal, 
77. 

Mental  perception,  how  dependent  on  moral  character,  96. 
Metal-work,  history  of,  proposal  for  its  illustration,  72. 
Microscope,  mistaken  use  of  the,  opposed  to  use  of  eyes,  23. 
Mineralogy,  principles  of  arrangement  in,  adapted  to  popular  intelli- 
gence, 101 ;  present  state  of  the  science,  110. 
Modernism,  the  degradation  of  England  by  it,  95. 

*  Modern  Painters,'  (the  Author's  book,  so  called,)  contained  the  first 
truthful  delineations  of  the  Alps,  109 ;  the  Author's  design  for  its 
republication,  8,  11  ;  mistake  in  it,  caused  by  thinking  instead  of 
observing,  36. 

Motion,  proportionate,  how  to  study,  47 ;  rate  of,  in  glaciers,  42. 
Mountains,  how  to  see,  and  whence,  12. 

Museums,  arrangement  of,  general  principles  respecting,  106 ;  special 

plan  of  that  at  Sheffield,  99,  102. 
Muscular  energy,  not  an  all-sufficient  source  of  happiness,  or  criterion 

of  taste,  12. 

Nations,  lower  types  of,  without  language  or  conscience,  95. 
Niagara,  misleading  observations  upon,  by  the  school  of  Sir  Charles 
Lyell,  29. 


232 


INDEX. 


Noises  in  modern  travelling,  57. 

Novelty  the  worst  enemy  of  knowledge,  71. 

Nuts  of  silica,  and  almonds,  why  so  called,  113. 

Onyx,  importance  of,  in  the  history  of  the  Jews,  77,  78  ;  general  ac- 
count of,  78,  83. 
Or,  the  Heraldic  metal,  meaning  of,  87. 

Paradise,  treasures  of  its  first  river,  75. 

Passion,  evil  effects  of,  on  bodily  health,  5.  The  reader  would  do  well 
to  study  on  this  subject,  with  extreme  care,  the  introductory  clauses 
of  Sir  Henry  Thompson's  paper  on  Food,  in  the  28th  number  of 
the  'Nineteenth  Century.' 

Paste,  experiments  in,  on  compression  of  strata,  139. 

Pearls,  of  great  and  little  price,  relative  estimate  of  by  English  ladies, 
98  ;  Heraldic  meaning  of,  92. 

Pebbles,  Scotch,  nature  of,  unknown,  61.    See  Agate. 

Periods,  the  three  great,  of  the  Earth's  construction,  25. 

Phillips,  Professor,  of  Oxford,  61  ;  section  of  Lake  district  by,  139. 

Plain  of  Switzerland,  north  of  the  Alps,  its  structure,  13. 

Plans,  the  Author's,  of  future  work,  6.  (I  observe  many  readers  have 
passed  this  sentence  without  recognizing  its  irony.) 

Plantagenet,  Geoffrey,  shield  of,  91. 

Plasticity,  the  term  defined,  62. 

Pools,  how  kept  deep  in  streams,  dubitable,  132. 

Poverty,  how  to  be  honourably  mitigated,  107. 

Prestwich,  Professor,  of  Oxford,  86. 

Priority  in  discovery,  never  cared  for  by  the  Author,  7. 

Progress,  certainty  of,  to  be  secured  in  science  only  by  modesty,  109. 

Proteus,  the  seal-herdsman,  94. 

Purple,  modern  errors  respecting  the  colour,  94.    Compare  Hyacinth. 
Purpure,  the  Heraldic  colour,  meaning  of,  90. 

Ram's  skins,  for  covering  of  Jewish  Tabernacle,  94. 
Red,  how  represented  in  Heraldry,  88. 

Regelation,  theory  of,  as  causing  the  motion  of  glaciers,-— its  absurdity, 
187. 

Rendu,  Bishop  of  Amiens,  his  keenness  of  sense,  39. 

Rhine,  upper  valley  of,  15. 

Rhone,  upper  valley  of,  15. 

Rocks,  wet  and  dry  formation  of,  110. 

Rood,  Professor,  Author  receives  assistance  from,  69. 

Rosa,  Monte,  the  chain  of  Alps  to  the  north  of  it,  175. 

Rose,  the  origin  of  the  Persian  word  for  red,  88. 

Rossberg,  fall  of,  how  illustrating  its  form.  16. 


INDEX. 


233 


Sable,  the  Heraldic  colour,  meaning  of,  91. 
Scarlet,  the  Heraldic  colour,  meaning  of,  89. 

Science,  modern,  duties  of,  30,  127  ;  modern  vileness  and  falseness  of, 
144  ;  true,  how  beginning  and  ending,  146.  (In  that  page,  line 
23,  for  '  science,7  read  *  morals.') 

Scientific  Persons,  how  different  from  artists,  24. 

Sealskins,  use  of,  in  the  Jewish  Tabernacle,  26. 

Selfishness,  the  Author's,  121. 

Sense,  in  morals,  evil  of  substituting  analysis  for,  23. 
Senses,  the  meaning  of  being  in  or  out  of  them,  23. 
Sensibility,  few  persons  have  any  worth  appealing  to,  11. 
Sentis,  Hoche,  of  Appenzell,  structure  of,  13,  17. 
Silica  in  lavas,  119  ;  varieties  of,  defined,  120. 
Sinai,  desert  of,  coldness  of  occasional  climate  in,  74. 
Simplon,  village  of,  107  ;  Hospice  of,  114. 

Slate,  cleavage  of,  generally  discussed,  158.    Compare  *  Modern  Paint- 
ers,' Part  v  ,  chapters  viii.-x. 
Sloth,  (the  nocturnal  animal,)  misery  of,  144. 
Snow,  Alpine,  structure  of,  35,  38,  40. 
Sorby,  Mr.,  value  of  his  work,  111. 
Sovereign,  (the  coin,)  imagery  on,  102. 
Squirrel,  beauty  of,  and  relation  to  man,  145. 
Stalagmite,  incrustation  of,  109. 
Standing  of  aiguilles,  method  of,  to  be  learned,  21. 
Stockhorn,  of  Thun,  structure  of,  13. 

Stones,  loose  in  the  Park,  one  made  use  of,  73  ;  precious  their  real 
meaning,  96. 

Streams,  action  of,  132.    See  Channels ;  and  compare  i  Modern  Paint- 
ers,' vol.  x.,  pp.  91,  95. 
Studer,  Professor,  references  to  his  work  on  the  Alps,  18,  157. 
Sun,  Heraldic  type  of  Justice,  87,  88. 

Tabernacle,  the  Jewish  fur-coverings  of,  94 ;  the  spiritual,  of  God,  in 
man,  99. 

Temeraire,  the  fighting,  at  Trafalgar,  87. 
Tenny,  the  Heraldic  colour,  meaning  of,  89. 

Theory,  mischief  of,  in  scientific  study,  109  ;  the  work  of  '  Deucalion ' 

exclusive  of  it,  20. 
Thinking,  not  to  be  trusted,  when  seeing  is  possible,  36. 
Thoughts,  worth  having,  come  to  us  ;  we  cannot  come  at  them,  56. 
Thun,  lake  and  vale  of,  14  ;  passage  of  the  lake  by  modern  tourists, 

19  ;  old-fashioned  manners  of  its  navigation,  19. 
Time,  respect  due  to,  in  forming  collections  of  objects  for  study,  107. 
Topaz,  Heraldic  meaning  of,  88. 

Torrents,  action  of,  in  forming  their  beds,  debated,  28. 


234 


INDEX. 


Town  life,  misery  of,  146. 

Truth,  ultimate  and  mediate,  differing  character  of,  92. 

Turner,  J.  M.  W.,  Alpine  drawings  by,  11. 

Tylor,  Mr.  Alfred,  exhaustive  analysis  of  hill  curves  by,  167. 

Tyndall,  Professor,  experiments  by,  37 ;  various  references  to  his  workst 

46,  50,  67,  114,  158,  163. 
Tyrrwhitt,  the  Rev.  St.  John,  sketches  in  Arabia  by,  76. 

Valleys,  lateral  and  transverse,  of  Alps,  14 ;  names  descriptive  of,  in 

England  how  various,  128. 
Valtelline,  relation  of,  to  Alps,  15. 
Vanity  of  prematurely  systematic  science,  101. 
Vert,  the  Heraldic  colour,  meaning  of,  89. 
Via  Mala,  defile  of,  14,  20. 
Violet-le-Duc,  unwary  geology  by,  108. 

Viscosity,  definition  of,  47,  62  ;  first  experiments  on  viscous  motion  of 

viscous  fluids  by  Professor  Forbes,  45. 
Volcanos,  our  personal  interest  in  the  phenomena  of,  in  this  world,  143. 

Woman,  supremely  inexplicable,  72. 

Willett,  Mr.  Henry,  investigations  of  flint  undertaken  by,  110  ;  pro- 
ceeded with,  114. 
Waves  of  glacier  ice,  contours  of,  in  melting,  117. 

Wood,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  method  of  his  teaching,  145  ;  and  compare  1  Fors 

Clavigera,'  Letter  li.,  vol.  ii.  pp.  356-357. 
Woodward,  Mr.  Henry,  experiment  by,  on  contorted  strata,  18. 
Woods,  free  growth  of,  in  Savoy,  59. 
Weathering  of  Coniston  slate,  137. 

Yellow,  how  represented  in  Heraldry,  81. 
Yewdale,  near  Coniston,  scenery  of,  130,  134,  136. 
Yewdale  Crag,  structure  of  137 ;  a  better  subject  of  study  than  crags  in 
the  moon,  143. 


KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  Publishers  think  it  due  to  the  Author  of  this  Fairy 
Tale.',  to  state  the  circumstances  under  which  it  appears. 

The  King  of  the  Golden  Kiver  was  written  in  1841,  at  the 
request  of  a  very  young  lady,  and  solely  for  her  amusement, 
without  any  idea  of  publication.  It  has  since  remained  in  the 
possession  of  a  friend,  to  whose  suggestion,  and  the  passive 
assent  of  the  Author,  the  Publishers  are  indebted  for  the  op- 
portunity of  printing  it. 

The  Illustrations,  by  Mr.  Kichard  Doyle,  will,  it  is  hoped, 
be  found  to  embody  the  Author's  ideas  with  characteristic 
spirit. 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN 

OR, 

THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


RIVER; 


CHAPTER  I. 

How  the  Agricultural  System  of  the  Black  Brothers  was 

INTERFERED  WITH  BY  SOUTHWEST  WlND,  ESQUIRE. 


A  secluded  and  mountainous  part  of 
Stiria  there  was,  in  old  time,  a  valley 
of  the  most  surprising  and  luxuriant 
fertility.  It  was  surrounded,  on  all 
sides,  by  steep  and  rocky  mountains, 
rising  into  peaks,  which  were  always 
covered  with  snow,  and  from  which  a  number  of  torrents 
descended  in  constant  cataracts.  One  of  these  fell  westward, 
over  the  face  of  a  crag  so  high,  that,  when  the  sun  had  set  to 
everything  else,  and  all  below  was  darkness,  his  beams  still 
$hone  full  upon  this  waterfall,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  shower 
J.  gold,    it  wa$,  therefore,  called,  by  the  people  of  the  neigh- 


240 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


borhood,  the  Golden  Biver.  It  was  strange  that  none  of 
these  streams  fell  into  the  valley  itself.  They  all  descended 
on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains,  and  wound  away  through 
broad  plains  and  by  popular  cities.  But  the  clouds  were 
drawn  so  constantly  to  the  snowy  hills,  and  rested  so  softly  in 
the  circular  hollow,  that  in  time  of  drought  and  heat,  when 
all  the  country  round  was  burnt  up,  there  was  still  rain  in 
the  little  valley  ;  and  its  crops  were  so  heavy,  and  its  hay  so 
high,  and  its  apples  so  red,  and  its  grapes  so  blue,  and  its 
wine  so  rich,  and  its  honey  so  sweet,  that  it  was  a  marvel  to 
every  one  who  beheld  it,  and  was  commonly  called  the  Treas- 
ure Valley. 

The  whole  of  this  little  valley  belonged  to  three  brothers, 
called  Schwartz,  Hans,  and  Gluck.  Schwartz  and  Hans,  the 
two  elder  brothers,  were  very  ugly  men,  with  over-hanging 
eyebrows  and  small  dull  eyes,  which  were  always  half  shut, 
so  that  you  couldn't  see  into  them,  and  always  fancied  they 
saw  very  far  into  you.  They  lived  by  farming  the  Treasure 
Valley,  and  very  good  farmers  they  were.  They  killed  every- 
thing that  did  not  pay  for  its  eating.  They  shot  the  black- 
birds, because  they  pecked  the  fruit ;  and  killed  the  hedge- 
hogs, lest  they  should  suck  the  cows  ;  they  poisoned  the 
crickets  for  eating  the  crumbs  in  the  kitchen  ;  and  smothered 
the  cicadas,  which  used  to  sing  all  summer  in  the  lime  trees. 
They  worked  their  servants  without  any  wages,  till  they  would 
not  work  any  more,  and  then  quarrelled  with  them,  and  turned 
them  out  of  doors  without  paying  them.  It  would  have  been 
very  odd,  if  with  such  a  farm,  and  such  a  system  of  farming, 
they  hadn't  got  very  rich  ;  and  very  rich  they  did  get.  They 
generally  contrived  to  keep  their  corn  by  them  till  it  was  very 
dear,  and  then  sell  it  for  twice  its  value  ;  they  had  heaps  of 
gold  lying  about  on  their  floors,  yet  it  was  never  known  that 
they  had  given  so  much  as  a  penny  or  a  crust  in  charity  ;  they 
never  went  to  mass  ;  grumbled  perpetually  at  paying  tithes  ; 
and  were,  in  a  word,  of  so  cruel  and  grinding  a  temper,  as  to 
receive  from  all  those  with  whom  they  had  any  dealings,  the 
pickname  of  the  "Black  Brothers." 

The  youngest  brother,  Gluck,  was  as  completely  opposed. 


OR,  TEE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


2« 


in  both  appearance  and  character,  to  his  seniors  as  could  pos- 
sibly be  imagined  or  desired.  He  was  not  above  twelve  years 
old,  fair,  blue-eyed,  and  kind  in  temper  to  every  living  thing. 
He  did  not,  of  course,  agree  particularly  well  with  his  brothers, 
or  rather,  they  did  not  agree  with  him.  He  was  usually  ap- 
pointed to  the  honorable  office  of  turnspit,  when  there  was 
anything  to  roast,  which  was  not  often  ;  for,  to  do  the  brothers 
justice,  they  were  hardly  less  sparing  upon  themselves  than 
upon  other  people.  At  other  times  he  used  to  clean  the  shoes, 
floors,  and  sometimes  the  plates,  occasionally  getting  what 
was  left  on  them,  by  way  of  encouragement,  and  a  wholesome 
quantity  of  dry  blows,  by  way  of  education. 

Things  went  on  in  this  manner  for  a  long  time.  At  last 
came  a  very  wet  summer,  and  everything  went  wrong  in  the 
country  around.  The  hay  had  hardly  been  got  in,  when  the 
haystacks  were  floated  bodily  down  to  the  sea  by  an  inunda- 
tion ;  the  vines  were  cut  to  pieces  with  the  hail ;  the  corn  was 
all  kil]ed  by  a  black  blight ;  only  in  the  Treasure  Valley,  as 
usual,  all  was  safe.  As  it  had  rain  when  there  was  rain  no- 
where else,  so  it  had  sun  when  there  was  sun  nowhere  else. 
Everybody  came  to  buy  corn  at  the  farm,  and  went  away 
pouring  maledictions  on  the  Black  Brothers.  They  asked 
what  they  liked,  and  got  it,  except  from  the  poor  people,  who 
could  only  beg,  and  several  of  whom  were  starved  at  their 
very  door,  without  the  slightest  regard  or  notice. 

It  was  drawing  toward  winter,  and  very  cold  weather,  when 
one  day  the  two  elder  brothers  had  gone  out,  with  their  usual 
warning  to  little  Gluck,  who  was  left  to  mind  the  roast,  that 
he  was  to  let  nobody  in,  and  give  nothing  out.  Gluck  sat 
down  quite  close  to  the  fire,  for  it  was  raining  very  hard,  and 
the  kitchen  walls  were  by  no  means  dry  or  comfortable  look- 
ing. He  turned  and  turned,  and  the  roast  got  nice  and  brown. 
"  What  a  pity,"  thought  Gluck,  "  my  brothers  never  ask  any- 
body to  dinner.  I'm  sure,  when  they've  got  such  a  nice  piece 
of  mutton  as  this,  and  nobody  else  has  got  so  much  as  a  piece 
of  dry  bread,  it  would  do  their  hearts  good  to  have  somebody 
to  eat  it  with  them." 

Just  as  he  spoke,  there  came  a  double  knock  at  the  house 


2*2  THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 

door,  yet  heavy  and  dull,  as  though  the  knocker  had  been  tied 
up — more  like  a  puff  than  a  knock. 

"It  must  be  the  wind,"  said  Gluck  ;  "nobody  else  would 
venture  to  knock  double  knocks  at  our  door." 

No  ;  it  wasn't  the  wind  :  there  it  came  again  very  hard,  and 
what  was  particularly  astounding,  the  knocker  seemed  to  be 
in  a  hurry,  and  not  to  be  in  the  least  afraid  of  the  conse- 
quences. Gluck  went  to  the  window,  opened  it,  and  put  his 
head  out  to  see  who  it  was. 

It  was  the  most  extraordinary  looking  little  gentleman  he 
had  ever  seen  in  his  life.  He  had  a  very  large  nose,  slightly 
brass-colored  ;  his  cheeks  were  very  round,  and  very  red, 
and  might  have  warranted  a  supposition  that  he  had  been 
blowing  a  refractory  fire  for  the  last  eight-and-forty  hours  ;  his 
eyes  twinkled  merrily  through  long  silky  eyelashes,  his  mus- 
taches curled  twice  round  like  a  corkscrew  on  each  side  of  his 
mouth,  and  his  hair,  of  a  curious  mixed  pepper-and-salt  color, 
descended  far  over  his  shoulders.  He  was  about  four  feet 
six  in  height,  and  wore  a  conical-pointed  cap  of  nearly  the 
same  altitude,  decorated  with  a  black  feather  some  three  feet 
long.  His  doublet  was  prolonged  behind  into  something  re- 
sembling a  violent  exaggeration  of  what  is  now  termed  a 
"  swallow  tail/'  but  was  much  obscured  by  the  swelling  folds 
of  an  enormous  black,  glossy-looking  cloak,  which  must  have 
been  very  much  too  long  in  calm  weather,  as  the  wind,  whist- 
ling round  the  old  house,  carried  it  clear  out  from  the  wTearer's 
shoulders  to  about  four  times  his  own  length. 

Gluck  was  so  perfectly  paralyzed  by  the  singular  appear- 
ance of  his  visitor,  that  he  remained  fixed,  without  uttering  a 
word,  until  the  old  gentleman,  having  performed  another,  and 
a  more  energetic  concerto  on  the  knocker,  turned  round  to 
look  after  his  fly-away  cloak.  In  so  doing  he  caught  sight  of 
Gl uck's  little  yellow  head  jammed  in  the  window,  with  its 
mouth  and  eyes  very  wide  open  indeed. 

"  Hollo  !  "  said  the  little  gentleman,  "  that's  not  the  way  to 
answer  the  door  :  I'm  wTet,  let  me  in." 

To  do  the  little  gentleman  justice,  he  teas  wet.  His  feather 
hung  down  between  his  le^s  like  a  beaten  puppy's  tail  drip- 


or.  ftiE  b^ack  brothers. 


213 


ping  like  an  umbrella  ;  and  from  the  ends  of  his  mustaches 
the  water  was  running  into  his  waistcoat  pockets,  and  out 
again  like  a  mill  stream. 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  Gluck,  "  I'm  very  sorry,  but  I 
really  can't." 

"  Can't  what !  "  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"I  can't  let  you  in,  sir, — I  can't,  indeed;  my  brothers 
would  beat  me  to  death,  sir,  if  I  thought  of  such  a  thing. 
What  do  you  want,  sir  ?  " 

"  Want  ?  "  said  the  old  gentleman,  petulantly.  "  I  want 
fire,  and  shelter  ;  and  there's  your  great  fire  there  blazing, 
crackling,  and  dancing  on  the  walls,  with  nobody  to  feel  it. 
Let  me  in,  I  say  ;  I  only  want  to  warm  myself." 

Gluck  had  had  his  head,  by  this  time,  so  long  out  of  the 
window,  that  he  began  to  feel  it  was  really  unpleasantly  cold, 
and  when  he  turned,  and  saw  the  beautiful  fire  rustling  and 
roaring,  and  throwing  long  bright  tongues  up  the  chimney, 
as  if  it  were  licking  its  chops  at  the  savory  smell  of  the  leg 
of  mutton,  his  heart  melted  within  him  that  it  should  be  burn- 
ing away  for  nothing.  "He  does  look  very  wet,"  said  little 
Gluck  ;  "  I'll  just  let  him  in  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour."  Round 
he  went  to  the  door,  and  opened  it ;  and  as  the  little  gentle- 
man walked  in,  there  came  a  gust  of  wind  through  the  house, 
that  made  the  old  chimneys  totter. 

"  That's  a  good  boy,"  said  the  little  gentleman.  "  Never 
mind  your  brothers.    I'll  talk  to  them." 

"Pray,  sir,  don't  do  any  such  thing,"  said  Gluck.  "I  can't 
let  you  stay  till  they  come  ;  they'd  be  the  death  of  me." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "  I'm  very  sorry  to 
hear  that.    How  long  may  I  stay  ?  " 

"  Only  till  the  mutton's  done,  sir,"  replied  Gluck,  "and  it's 
very  brown." 

Then  the  old  gentleman  walked  into  the  kitchen,  and  sat 
himself  down  on  the  hob,  with  the  top  of  his  cap  accommo- 
dated up  the  chimney,  for  it  was  a  great  deal  too  high  for  the 
roof. 

"You'll  soon  dry  there,  sir,"  said  Gluck,  and  sat  down 
again  to  turn  the  mutton.    But  the  old  gentleman  did  not 


244  THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


dry  there,  but  went  on  drip,  drip,  dripping  among  the  cin- 
ders, and  the  fire  fizzed,  and  sputtered,  and  began  to  look 
very  black,  and  uncomfortable  :  never  was  such  a  cloak  ;  ev- 
ery fold  in  it  ran  like  a  gutter. 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  said  Gluck,  at  length,  after  watching 
the  water  spreading  in  long,  quicksilver-like  streams  over  the 
floor  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  "  mayn't  I  take  your  cloak  ?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Your  cap,  sir  ?  " 


"I  am  all  right,  thank  you,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  rather 
gruffly. 

"But — sir — I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Gluck,  hesitatingly; 
"but — really,  sir — you're — putting  the  fire  out." 

"  It'll  take  longer  to  do  the  mutton,  then,"  replied  his  visi- 
tor dryly. 

Gluck  was  very  much  puzzled  by  the  behavior  of  his 
guest ;  it  was  such  a  strange  mixture  of  coolness  and  humil- 
ity. He  turned  away  at  the  string  meditatively  for  another 
five  minutes. 

"That  mutton  looks  very  nice,"  said  the  old  gentlenmn,  ai 
length.    "Can't  you  give  me  a  little  bit?" 


OR,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


245 


"  Impossible,  sir,"  said  Gluck. 

"I'm  very  hungry,"  continued  the  old  gentleman  :  "I've 
had  nothing  to  eat  yesterday,  nor  to-day.  They  surely 
couldn't  miss  a  bit  from  the  knuckle  !  " 

He  spoke  in  so  very  melancholy  a  tone,  that  it  quite  melted 
Gluck 's  heart.  "They  promised  me  one  slice  to-day,  sir,*5 
said  he  ;    I  can  give  you  that,  but  not  a  bit  more." 

"  That's  a  good  boy,"  said  the  old  gentleman  again. 

Then  Gluck  warmed  a  plate,  and  sharpened  a  knife.  "  I 
don't  care  if  I  do  get  beaten  for  it,"  thought  he.  Just  as  he 
had  cut  a  large  slice  out  of  the  mutton,  there  came  a  tremen- 
dous rap  at  the  door.  The  old  gentleman  jumped  off  the  hob, 
as  if  it  had  suddenly  become  inconveniently  warm.  Gluck 
fitted  the  slice  into  the  mutton  again,  with  desperate  efforts 
at  exactitude,  and  ran  to  open  the  door. 

"What  did  you  keep  us  waiting  in  the  rain  for?"  said 
Schwartz,  as  he  walked  in,  throwing  his  umbrella  in  Gluck's 
face.  Ay  !  what  for,  indeed,  you  little  vagabond  ?  "  said  Hans, 
administering  an  educational  box  on  the  ear,  as  he  followed 
his  brother  into  the  kitchen. 

"Bless  my  soul! "  said  Schwartz,  when  he  opened  the  door. 

"Amen,"  said  the  little  gentleman,  who  had  taken  his  cap 
off,  and  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  kitchen,  bowing 
with  the  utmost  possible  velocity. 

"Who's  that?"  said  Schwartz,  catching  up  a  rolling-pin, 
and  turning  to  Gluck,  with  a  fierce  frown. 

"I  don't  know,  indeed,  brother,"  said  Gluck,  in  great  ter- 
ror. 

"  How  did  he  get  in  ?  "  roared  Schwartz. 
"My  dear  brother,"  said  Gluck,  deprecatingly,  "he  was  so 
very  wet !  " 

The  rolling-pin  was  descending  on  Gluck's  head ;  but,  at 
the  instant,  the  old  gentleman  interposed  his  conical  cap,  on 
which  it  crashed  with  a  shock  that  shook  the  water  out  of  it 
all  over  the  room.  What  was  very  odd,  the  rolling  pin  no 
sooner  touched  the  cap,  than  it  flew  out  of  Schwartz's  hand, 
spinning  like  a  straw  in  a  high  wind,  and  fell  into  the  corner 
at  the  further  end  of  the  room. 


246         THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 

"  Who  are  you,  sir  ?  "  demanded  Schwartz,  turning  upon 
hiin. 

"  What's  your  business  ?  93  snarled  Hans. 

"I'm  a  poor  old  man,  sir,"  the  little  gentleman  began  very 
modestly,  "  and  I  saw  your  fire  through  the  window,  and 
begged  shelter  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  walk  out  again,  then,"  said  Schwartz. 
"  We've  quite  enough  water  in  our  kitchen,  without  making 
it  a  drying-house." 

"It  is  a  cold  day  to  turn  an  old  man  out  in,  sir  ;  look  at 


my  gray  hairs."  They  hung  down  to  his  shoulders,  as  I  told 
you  before. 

"  Ay  !  "  said  Hans,  "  there  are  enough  of  them  to  keep  you 
warm.    Walk  ! " 

"  I'm  very,  very  hungry,  sir  ;  couldn't  you  spare  me  a  bit 
of  bread  before  I  go  ?  " 

"Bread,  indeed  !  "  said  Schwartz  ;  "  do  you  suppose  we've 
nothing  to  do  with  our  bread,  but  to  give  it  to  such  red-nosed 
fellows  as  you  ?  " 

"Why  don't  you  sell  your  feather ? "  said  Hans,  sneeringly- 
"Out  with  you." 

"A  little  bit,"  said  the  old  gentleman. 


OR,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


247 


"  Be  off  !  "  said  Schwartz. 
* '  Pray,  gentlemen." 

"  Off,  and  be  hanged !  "  cried  Hans,  seizing  him  by  the 
collar.  But  he  had  no  sooner  touched  the  old  gentleman's 
collar,  than  away  he  went  after  the  rolling-pin,  spinning  round 
and  round,  till  he  fell  into  the  corner  on  the  top  of  it.  Then 
Schwartz  was  very  angry,  and  ran  at  the  old  gentleman  to 
turn  him  out ;  but  he  also  had  hardly  touched  him,  when 
away  he  went  after  Hans  and  the  rolling-pin,  and  hit  his  head 
against  the  wall  as  he  tumbled  into  the  corner.  And  so  there 
they  lay,  all  three. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  spun  himself  round  with  velocity 
in  the  opposite  direction  ;  continued  to  spin  until  his  long 
cloak  was  all  wound  neatly  about  him  ;  clapped  his  cap  on  his 
head,  very  much  on  one  side  (for  it  could  not  stand  upright 
without  going  through  the  ceiling),  gave  an  additional  twist 
to  his  corkscrew  mustaches,  and  replied  with  perfect  coolness  : 
*'  Gentlemen,  I  wish  you  a  very  good  morning.  At  twelve 
o'clock  to-night  I'll  call  again ;  after  such  a  refusal  of  hospital- 
ity as  I  have  just  experienced,  you  will  not  be  surprised  if 
that  visit  is  the  last  I  ever  pay  you." 

"If  ever  I  catch  you  here  again,"  muttered  Schwartz,  com- 
ing, half  frightened,  out  of  the  corner — but,  before  he  could 
finish  his  sentence,  the  old  gentleman  had  shut  the  house  door 
behind  him  with  a  great  bang :  and  there  drove  past  the  win- 
dow, at  the  same  instant,  a  wreath  of  ragged  cloud,  that 
whirled  and  rolled  away  down  the  valley  in  all  manner  of 
shapes  ;  turning  over  and  over  in  the  air  ;  and  melting  away 
at  last  in  a  gush  of  rain. 

"A  very  pretty  business,  indeed,  Mr.  Gluck  !"  said  Schwartz. 
"  Dish  the  mutton,  sir.  If  ever  I  catch  you  at  such  a  trick 
again — bless  me,  why  the  mutton's  been  cut !  " 

"  You  promised  me  one  slice,  brother,  you  know,"  said 
Gluck. 

"  Oh !  and  you  were  cutting  it  hot,  I  suppose,  and  going 
to  catch  all  the  gravy.  It'll  be  long  before  I  promise  you 
such  a  thing  again.  Leave  the  room,  sir  ;  and  have  the 
kindness  to  wait  in  the  coal-cellar  till  I  call  you." 


248 


TEE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


Gluck  left  the  room  melancholy  enough.  The  brothers  ate 
as  much  mutton  as  they  could,  locked  the  rest  in  the  cup- 
board, and  proceeded  to  get  very  drunk  after  dinner. 

Such  a  night  as  it  was  !  Howling  wind,  and  rushing  rain, 
without  intermission.  The  brothers  had  just  sense  enough 
left  to  put  up  all  the  shutters,  and  double  bar  the  door,  be- 
fore they  went  to  bed.  They  usually  slept  in  the  same  room. 
As  the  clock  struck  twelve,  they  were  both  awakened  by  a 
tremendous  crash.  Their  door  burst  open  with  a  violence 
that  shook  the  house  from  top  to  bottom. 

"  What's  that  ?  "  cried  Schwartz,  starting  up  in  his  bed. 

"  Only  I,"  said  the  little  gentleman. 


The  two  brothers  sat  up  on  their  bolster,  and  stared  into 
the  darkness.  The  room  was  full  of  water,  and  by  a  misty 
moonbeam,  which  found  its  way  through  a  hole  in  the  shut- 
ter, they  could  see  in  the  midst  of  it,  an  enormous  foam 
globe,  spinning  round,  and  bobbing  up  and  down  like  a 
cork,  on  which,  as  on  a  most  luxurious  cushion,  reclined  the 
little  old  gentleman,  cap  and  all.  There  was  plenty  of  room 
for  it  now,  for  the  roof  was  off. 

"  Sorry  to  incommode  you,"  said  their  visitor,  ironically. 
"  I'm  afraid  your  beds  are  dampish  ;  perhaps  you  had  better 
go  to  your  brother's  room  :  I've  left  the  ceiling  on,  there." 


0Ph  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


249 


They  required  no  second  admonition,  but  rushed  into 
Gluck's  room,  wet  through,  and  in  an  agony  of  terror. 

"  You'll  find  my  card  on  the  kitchen  table,"  the  old  gentle- 
man called  after  them.    "Kemember,  the  last  visit. " 

"Pray  Heaven  it  may  !"  said  Schwartz,  shuddering.  And 
the  foam  globe  disappeared. 

Dawn  came  at  last,  and  the  two  brothers  looked  out  of 
Gluck's  little  window  in  the  morning.  The  Treasure  Valley 
was  one  mass  of  ruin  and  desolation.  The  inundation  had 
swept  away  trees,  crops,  and  cattle,  and  left  in  their  stead  a 
waste  of  red  sand,  and  gray  mud.  The  two  brothers  crept 
shivering  and  horror-struck  into  the  kitchen.  The  water  had 
gutted  the  whole  first  floor  ;  corn,  money,  almost  every  mov- 
able thing  had  been  swept  away,  and  there  was  left  only  % 
small  white  card  on  the  kitchen  table.  On  it,  in  large, 
breezy,  long-legged  letters,  were  engraved  the  words  : 


250  THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


CHAPTEE  n. 

Of  the  Proceedings  of  the  Three  Brothers  after  the  Visit 
of  Southwest  Wind,  Esquire  ;  and  how  little  Gluck  hak 
an  Interview  with  the  King  of  the  Golden  Kiver. 


OIJTHWEST  WIND, 

Esquire,  was  as  good 
as  his  word.  After 
the  momentous  visit 
above  related,  he  en- 
tered the  Treasure 
Valley  no  more  ;  and, 
what  was  worse,  he 
had  so  much  influ- 
ence with  his  relations, 
the  West  Winds  in 
general,  and  used  it 
so  effectually,  that  they 
all  adopted  a  similar 
line  of  conduct.  So 
no  rain  fell  in  the  val- 
ley from  one  year's  end 
to  another.  Though 
everything  remained 
green  and  flourishing  in  the  plains  below,  the  inheritance  of 
the  Three  Brothers  was  a  desert.  What  had  once  been  the 
richest  soil  in  the  kingdom  became  a  shifting  heap  of  red 
sand ;  and  the  brothers,  unable  longer  to  contend  with  the 
adverse  skies,  abandoned  their  valueless  patrimony  in  despair, 
to  seek  some  means  of  gaining  a  livelihood  among  the  cities 
and  people  of  the  plains.    All  their  money  was  gone,  and  they 


02?,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


251 


had  nothing  left  but  some  curious  old-fashioned  pieces  of 
gold  plate,  the  last  remnants  of  their  ill-gotten  wealth. 

"  Suppose  we  turn  goldsmiths  ?  "  said  Schwartz  to  Hans, 
as  they  entered  the  large  city.  "  It  is  a  good  knave's  trade  ; 
we  can  put  a  great  deal  of  copper  into  the  gold,  without  any 
one's  finding  it  out." 

The  thought  was  agreed  to  be  a  very  good  one  ;  they  hired 
a  furnace,  and  turned  goldsmiths.  But  two  slight  circum- 
stances affected  their  trade  :  the  first,  that  people  did  not  ap- 
prove of  the  coppered  gold ;  the  second,  that  the  two  elder 


brothers,  whenever  they  had  sold  anything,  used  to  leave  lit- 
tle Gluck  to  mind  the  furnace,  and  go  and  drink  out  the 
money  in  the  ale-house  next  door.  So  they  melted  all  their 
gold,  without  making  money  enough  to  buy  more,  and  were 
at  last  reduced  to  one  large  drinking-mug,  which  an  uncle  of 
his  had  given  to  little  Gluck,  and  which  he  was  very  fond  of, 
and  would  not  have  parted  with  for  the  world  ;  though  he 
never  drank  anything  out  of  it  but  milk  and  water.  The 
mug  was  a  very  odd  mug  to  look  at.  The  handle  was  formed 
of  two  wreaths  of  flowing  golden  hair,  so  finely  spun  that  it 
looked  more  like  silk  than  metal,  and  these  wreaths  descended 
into,  and  mixed  with,  a  beard  and  whiskers  of  the  same  ex- 
quisite workmanship,  which  surrounded  and  decorated  a  very 


252 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  E1VEE; 


fierce  little  face,  of  the  reddest  gold  imaginable,  right  in  the 
front  of  the  mug,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  in  it  which  seemed  to 
command  its  whole  circumference.  It  was  impossible  to 
drink  out  of  the  mug  without  being  subjected  to  an  intense 
gaze  out  of  the  side  of  these  eyes  ;  and  Schwartz  positively 
averred,  that  once,  after  emptying  it,  full  of  Rhenish,  seven- 
teen times,  he  had  seen  them  wink !  When  it  came  to  the 
mug's  turn  to  be  made  into  spoons,  it  half  broke  poor  little 
Gluck's  heart  ;  but  the  brothers  only  laughed  at  him,  tossed 
the  mug  into  the  melting-pot,  and  staggered  out  to  the  ale- 
house ;  leaving  him,  as  usual,  to  pour  the  gold  into  bars, 
when  it  was  all  ready. 

When  they  were  gone,  Gluck  took  a  farewell  look  at  his 
old  friend  in  the  melting-pot.  The  flowing  hair  was  all  gone  ; 
nothing  remained  but  the  red  nose,  and  the  sparkling  eyes, 
which  looked  more  malicious  than  ever.  "  And  no  wonder," 
thought  Gluck,  "after  being  treated  in  that  way."  He  saun- 
tered disconsolately  to  the  window,  and  sat  himself  down  to 
catch  the  fresh  evening  air,  and  escape  the  hot  breath  of  the 
furnace.  Now  this  window  commanded  a  direct  view  of  the 
range  of  mountains,  which,  as  I  told  you  before,  overhung 


umn  of  pure  gold,  from  precipice  to  precipice,  with  the 
double  arch  of  a  broad  purple  rainbow  stretched  across  it, 
flushing  and  fading  alternately  in  the  wreaths  of  spray. 

"All! "  said  Gluck  aloud,  after  he  had  looked  at  it  for  a 


the  Treasure  Valley,  and  more 
especially  of  the  peak  from 
which  fell  the  Golden  River. 
It  was  just  at  the  close  of 
the  day,  and,  when  Gluck  sat 
down  at  the  window,  he  saw 
the  rocks  of  the  mountain-tops 
all  crimson  and  purple  with 


M  the  sunset ;  and  there  were 
bright  tongues  of  fiery  cloud 
burning  and  quivering  about 
them  ;  and  the  river,  brighter 
than  all,  fell,  in  a  waving  col- 


OR,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


£53 


while,  "  if  that  river  were  really  all  gold,  what  a  nice  thing  it 
would  be." 

"  No,  it  wouldn't,  Gluck,"  said  a  clear  metallic  voice,  close 
at  his  ear. 

"Bless  me,  what's  that?"  exclaimed  Gluck,  jumping  up6 
There  was  nobody  there.  He  looked  round  the  room,  and 
under  the  table,  and  a  great  many  times  behind  him,  but 
there  was  certainly  nobody  there,  and  he  sat  down  again  at 
the  window.  This  time  he  didn't  speak,  but  he  couldn't  help 
thinking  again  that  it  would  be  very  convenient  if  the  river 
were  really  all  gold. 

"Not  at  all,  my  boy,"  said  the  same  voice,  louder  than 
before. 

"  Bless  me  ! 99  said  Gluck  again,  "  what  is  that  ?  "  He 
looked  again  into  all  the  corners,  and  cupboards,  and  then 
began  turning  round,  and  round,  as  fast  as  he  could  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  thinking  there  was  somebody  behind  him, 
when  the  same  voice  struck  again  on  his  ear.  It  was  singing 
now  very  merrily,  "  Lala-lira-la  ; "  no  words,  only  a  soft  run- 
ning, effervescent  melody,  something  like  that  of  a  keitle  on 
the  boil.  Gluck  looked  out  of  the  window.  No,  it  was  cer- 
tainly in  the  house.  Up-stairs,  and  down-stairs.  No,  it  was 
certainly  in  that  very  room,  coming  in  quicker  time,  and 
clearer  notes,  every  moment.  "Lala-lira-la."  All  at  once  it 
struck  Gluck  that  it  sounded  louder  near  the  furnace.  He 
ran  to  the  opening,  and  looked  in  :  yes,  he  saw  right,  it  seemed 
to  be  coming,  not  only  out  of  the  furnace,  but  out  of  the  pot. 
He  uncovered  it,  and  ran  back  in  a  great  fright,  for  the  pot 
wTas  certainly  singing  !  He  stood  in  the  farthest  corner  of 
the  room,  with  his  hands  up,  and  his  mouth  open,  for  a  min- 
ute or  two,  when  the  singing  stopped,  and  the  voice  became 
dear  and  pronunciative. 

"  Hollo  !  "  said  the  voice. 

Gluck  made  no  answer. 

"  Hollo  !  Gluck,  my  boy,"  said  the  pot  again. 

Gluck  summoned  all  his  energies,  walked  straight  up  to  the 
crucible,  drew  it  out  of  the  furnace,  and  looked  in.  The  gold 
was  all  melted,  and  its  surface  as  smooth  and  polished  as 


254         THE  KINO  OF  THE  GOLDEN  E1VER; 


a  river  ;  but  instead  of  reflecting  little  Gluck's  head,  as  he 
looked  in,  he  saw,  meeting  his  glance  from  beneath  the  gold, 
the  red  nose  and  sharp  eyes  of  his  old  friend  of  the  mug,  a 
thousand  times  redder  and  sharper  than  ever  he  had  seen 
them  in  his  life. 

"Come,  Gluck,  my  boy,"  said  the  voice  out  of  the  pot  again. 
"I'm  all  right ;  pour  me  out." 

But  Gluck  was  too  much  astonished  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind. 

"Pour  me  out,  I  say,"  said  the  voice,  rather  gruffly. 
Still  Gluck  couldn't  move. 

"  Will  you  pour  me  out?  "  said  the  voice,  passionately,  "I'm 
too  hot." 

By  a  violent  effort,  Gluck  recovered  the  use  of  his  limbs, 
took  hold  of  the  crucible,  and  sloped  it,  so  as  to  pour  out  the 
gold.  But  instead  of  a  liquid  stream,  there  came  out,  first,  a 
pair  of  pretty  little  yellow  legs,  then  some  coat-tails,  then  a 
pair  of  arms  stuck  a-kimbo,  and,  finally,  the  well-known 
head  of  his  friend  the  mug  ;  all  which  articles,  uniting 
as  they  rolled  out,  stood  up  energetically  on  the  floor, 
in  the  shape  of  a  little  golden  dwarf,  about  a  foot  and  a  half 
high. 

"  That's  right !  "  said  the  dwarf,  stretching  out  first  his 
legs,  and  then  his  arms,  and  then  shaking  his  head  up  and 
down,  and  as  far  around  as  it  would  go,  for  five  minutes, 
without  stopping  ;  apparently  with  the  view  of  ascertaining 
if  he  were  quite  correctly  put  together,  while  Gluck  stood 
contemplating  him  in  speechless  amazement.  He  was  dressed 
in  a  slashed  doublet  of  spun  gold,  so  fine  in  its  texture,  that 
the  prismatic  colors  gleamed  over  it  as  if  on  a  surface  of 
mother  of  pearl  ;  and,  over  this  brilliant  doublet,  his  hair 
and  beard  fell  full  half  wTay  to  the  ground,  in  waving  curls, 
so  exquisitely  delicate,  that  Gluck  could  hardly  tell  where 
they  ended  ;  they  seemed  to  melt  into  air.  The  features  of 
the  face,  however,  were  by  no  means  finished  with  the  same 
delicacy  ;  they  were  rather  coarse,  slightly  inclining  to 
coppery  in  complexion,  and  indicative,  in  expression,  of  a 
very  pertinacious  and  intractable  disposition  in  their  smal] 


OK,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


255 


proprietor.  When  the  dwarf  had  finished  his  self-examina- 
tion, he  turned  his  small  sharp  eyes  full  on  Gluck,  and 
stared  at  him  deliberately  for  a  minute  or  two.  "No,  it 
wouldn't,  Gluck,  my  boy,"  said  the  little  man. 

This  was  certainly  rather  an  abrupt  and  unconnected  mode 


of  commencing  conversation.  It  might  indeed  be  supposed 
to  refer  to  the  course  of  Gluck's  thoughts,  which  had  first 
produced  the  dwarf's  observations  out  of  the  pot ;  but  what- 
ever it  referred  to,  Gluck  had  no  inclination  to  dispute  the 
dictum. 

"  Wouldn't  it,  sir  V  "  said  Gluck,  very  mildly  and  submit 
sively  indeed. 


256         THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVEU ; 


"No,"  said  the  dwarf,  conclusively,  "No,  it  wouldn't." 
And  with  that,  the  dwarf  pulled  his  cap  hard  over  his  brows, 
and  took  two  turns,  of  three  feet  long,  up  and  down  the  room, 
lifting  his  legs  up  very  high,  and  setting  them  down  very 
hard.  This  pause  gave  time  for  Gluck  to  collect  his  thoughts 
a  little,  and,  seeing  no  great  reason  to  view  his  diminutive 
visitor  with  dread,  and  feeling  his  curiosity  overcome  his 
amazement,  he  ventured  on  a  question  of  peculiar  deli- 
cacy. 

" Pray,  sir,"  said  Gluck,  rather  hesitatingly,  "were  you  my 
mug  ?  " 

On  which  the  little  man  turned  sharp  round,  walked 
straight  up  to  Gluck,  and  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 
"  I, "  said  the  little  man,  "  am  the  King  of  the  Golden  River," 
Whereupon  he  turned  about  again,  and  took  two  more  turns, 
some  six  feet  long,  in  order  to  allow  time  for  the  conster- 
nation which  this  announcement  produced  in  his  auditor  to 
evaporate.  After  which,  he  again  walked  up  to  Gluck,  and 
stood  still,  as  if  expecting  some  comment  on  his  communica- 
tion. 

Gluck  determined  to  say  something  at  all  events.  "  I  hope 
your  Majesty  is  very  well,"  said  Gluck. 

"  Listen  !  "  said  the  little  man,  deigning  no  reply  to  this 
polite  inquiry.  "  I  am  the  King  of  what  you  mortals  call  the 
Golden  River.  The  shape  you  saw  me  in  was  owing  to  the 
malice  of  a  stronger  King,  from  whose  enchantments  you 
have  this  instant  freed  me.  "What  I  have  seen  of  you,  and 
your  conduct  to  your  wicked  brothers,  renders  me  willing  to 
serve  you  ;  therefore,  attend  to  wrhat  I  tell  you.  Whoever 
shall  climb  to  the  top  of  that  mountain,  from  which  you  see 
the  Golden  River  issue,  and  shall  cast  into  the  stream  at  its 
source  three  drops  of  holy  waiter,  for  him,  and  for  him  only, 
the  river  shall  turn  to  gold.  But  no  one  failing  in  his  first, 
can  succeed  in  a  second  attempt ;  and  if  any  one  shall  cast 
unholy  water  into  the  river,  it  will  overwhelm  him,  and  he 
will  become  a  black  stone."  So  saying,  the  King  of  the 
Golden  River  turned  away,  and  deliberately  walked  into  the 
centre  of  the  hottest  flame  of  the  furnace.    His  figure  became 


OB,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


red,  white,  transparent,  dazzling — a  blaze  of  intense  light — 
rose,  trembled,  and  disappeared.  The  King  of  the  Golden 
River  had  evaporated. 

"  Oh  ! 99  cried  poor  Gluck,  running  to  look  up  the  chimney 
after  him  ;  "  Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear  me  !  My  mug !  my  mug ! 
my  mug ! " 


258 


TEE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  PdVEU; 


CHAPTER  HI. 

How  Mr.  Hans  set  off  on  an  Expedition  to  the  Golden 
River,  and  how  he  prospered  therein. 

HE  King  of  the  Gold- 
en  River  had  hardly 
made  the  extraordina- 
ry exit  related  in  the 
last  chapter,  before 
Hans  and  Schwartz 
came  roaring  into  the 
house,  very  savagely 
drunk  The  discov- 
ery of  the  total  loss 
of  their  last  piece  of 
plate  had  the  effect 
of  sobering  them  just 
enough  to  enable  them 
to  stand  over  Gluck, 
beating  him  very 
steadily  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour ;  at  the  expiration  of  which 
period  they  dropped  into  a  couple  of  chairs,  and  requested  to 
know  what  he  had  got  to  say  for  himself.  Gluck  told  them 
his  story,  of  which,  of  course,  they  did  not  believe  a  word. 
They  beat  him  again,  till  their  arms  were  tired,  and  staggered 
to  bed.  In  the  morning,  however,  the  steadiness  with  which 
he  adhered  to  his  story  obtained  him  some  degree  of  cre- 
dence ;  the  immediate  consequence  of  which  was,  that  the 
two  brothers,  after  wrangling  a  long  time  on  the  knotty  ques- 
tion, which  of  them  should  try  his  fortune  first,  drew  their 
swords  and  began  fighting.    The  noise  of  the  fray  alarmed 


OR,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


259 


the  neighbors,  who,  finding  they  could  not  pacify  the  com- 
batants, sent  for  the  constable. 

Hans,  on  hearing  this,  contrived  to  escape,  and  hid  himself ; 
but  Schwartz  was  taken  before  the  magistrate,  fined  for 
breaking  the  peace,  and,  having  drunk  out  his  last  penny  the 
evening  before,  was  thrown  into  prison  till  he  should  pay. 

When  Hans  heard  this,  he  was  much  delighted,  and  deter- 
mined to  set  out  immediately  for  the  Golden  River.  How  to 
get  the  holy  water  was  the  question.  He  went  to  the  priest, 
but  the  priest  could  not  give  any  holy  water  to  so  abandoned 
a  character.    So  Hans  went  to  vespers  in  the  evening  for  the 


first  time  in  his  life,  and,  under  pretence  of  crossing  himself, 
stole  a  cupful,  and  returned  home  in  triumph. 

Next  morning  he  got  up  before  the  sun  rose,  put  the  holy 
water  into  a  strong  flask,  and  two  bottles  of  wine  and  some 
meat  in  a  basket,  slung  them  over  his  back,  took  his  alpine 
staff  in  his  hand,  and  set  off  for  the  mountains. 

On  his  way  out  of  the  town  he  had  to  pass  the  prison,  and  as 
he  looked  in  at  the  windows,  whom  should  he  see  but  Schwartz 
himself  peeping  out  of  the  bars,  and  looking  very  disconso- 
late. 

"  Good  morning,  brother,"  said  Hans  ;  "  have  you  any  mes- 
sage for  the  King  of  the  Golden  River  ?  " 

Schwartz  gnashed  his  teeth  with  rage,  and  shook  the  bars 
with  all  his  strength  ;  but  Hans  only  laughed  at  him,  and  ad- 
vising him  to  make  himself  comfortable  till  he  came  back 
again,  shouldered  his  basket,  shook  the  bottle  of  holy  water 


2G0  THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


in  Schwartz's  face  till  it  frothed  again,  and  marched  off  in  the 
highest  spirits  in  the  world. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  morning  that  might  have  made  any  one 
happy,  even  with  no  Golden  Eiver  to  seek  for.  Level  lines  of 
dewy  mist  lay  stretched  along  the  valley,  out  of  which  rose 
the  massy  mountains — their  lower  cliffs  in  pale  gray  shadow, 
hardly  distinguishable  from  the  floating  vapor,  but  gradu- 
ally ascending  till  they  caught  the  sunlight,  which  ran  in 
sharp  touches  of  ruddy  color  along  the  angular  crags,  and 
pierced,  in  long  level  rays,  through  their  fringes  of  spear-like 
pine.  Far  above,  shot  up  red  splintered  masses  of  castellated 
rock,  jagged  and  shivered  into  myriads  of  fantastic  forms/ 


with  here  and  there  a  streak  of  sunlit  snow,  traced  down  their 
chasms  like  a  line  of  forked  lightning  ;  and,  far  beyond,  and 
far  above  all  these,  fainter  than  the  morning  cloud,  but  purer 
and  changeless,  slept,  in  the  blue  sky,  the  utmost  peaks  of  the 
eternal  snow. 

The  Golden  River,  which  sprang  from  one  of  the  lower 
and  snowless  elevations,  was  now  nearly  in  shadow ;  all  but 
the  uppermost  jets  of  spray,  which  rose  like  slow  smoke  above 
the  undulating  line  of  the  cataract,  and  floated  away  in  feeble 
wreathes  upon  the  morning  wind. 

On  this  object,  and  on  this  alone,  Hans'  eyes  and  thoughts 
were  fixed  ;  forgetting  the  distance  he  had  to  traverse,  he  set 
off  at  an  imprudent  rate  of  walking,  which  greatly  exhausted 


OB,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS.  261 

him  before  he  had  scaled  the  first  range  of  the  green  and  low 
hills.  He  was,  moreover,  surprised,  on  surmounting  them,  to 
find  that  a  large  glacier,  of  whose  existence,  notwithstanding 
his  previous  knowledge  of  the  mountains,  he  had  been  abso- 
lutely ignorant,  lay  between  him  and  the  source  of  the  Golden 
River.  He  entered  on  it  with  the  boldness  of  a  practised 
mountaineer;  yet  he  thought  he  had  never  traversed  so 
strange  or  so  dangerous  a  glacier  in  his  life.  The  ice  was  ex- 
cessively slippery,  and  out  of  all  its  chasms  came  wild  sounds 
of  gushing  water  ;  not  monotonous  or  low,  but  changeful  and 
loud,  rising  occasionally  into  drifting  passages  of  wild  mel- 
ody, then  breaking  off  into  short  melancholy  tones,  or  sudden 
shrieks,  resembling  those  of  human  voices  in  distress  or  pain. 
The  ice  was  broken  into  thousands  of  confused  shapes,  but 
none,  Hans  thought,  like  the  ordinary  forms  of  splintered  ice. 
There  seemed  a  curious  expression  about  all  their  outlines — a 
perpetual  resemblance  to  living  features,  distorted  and  scorn- 
ful. Myriads  of  deceitful  shadows,  and  lurid  lights,  played 
and  floated  about  and  through  the  pale  blue  pinnacles,  daz- 
zling and  confusing  the  sight  of  the  traveller  ;  while  his  ears 
grew  dull  and  his  head  giddy  with  the  constant  gush  and 
roar  of  the  concealed  waters.  These  painful  circumstances 
increased  upon  him  as  he  advanced  ;  the  ice  crashed  and 
yawned  into  fresh  chasms  at  his  feet,  tottering  spires  nodded 
around  him,  and  fell  thundering  across  his  path  ;  and  though 
he  had  repeatedly  faced  these  dangers  on  the  most  terrific 
glaciers,  and  in  the  wildest  weather,  it  was  with  a  new  and 
oppressive  feeling  of  panic  terror  that  he  leaped  the  last 
chasm,  and  flung  himself,  exhausted  and  shuddering,  on  the 
firm  turf  of  the  mountain. 

He  had  been  compelled  to  abandon  his  basket  of  food, 
which  became  a  perilous  incumbrance  on  the  glacier,  and  had 
now  no  means  of  refreshing  himself  but  by  breaking  off  and 
eating  some  of  the  pieces  of  ice.  This,  however,  relieved  his 
thirst ;  an  hour's  repose  recruited  his  hardy  frame,  and  with 
the  indomitable  spirit  of  avarice  he  resumed  his  laborious 
journey. 

His  way  now  lay  straight  up  a  ridge  of  bare  red  rocks, 


262 


THE  KINO  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


without  a  blade  of  grass  to  ease  the  foot,  or  a  projecting  angle 
to  afford  an  inch  of  shade  from  the  south  sun.  It  was  past 
noon,  and  the  rajs  beat  intensely  upon  the  steep  path,  while 
the  whole  atmosphere  was  motionless,  and  penetrated  with 
heat.  Intense  thirst  was  soon  added  to  the  bodily  fatigue 
with  which  Hans  was  now  afflicted  ;  glance  after  glance  he 
cast  on  the  flask  of  water  which  hung  at  his  belt.  "  Three 
drops  are  enough,"  at  last  thought  he  ;  "I  may,  at  least,  cool 
my  lips  with  it." 

He  opened  the  flask,  and  was  raising  it  to  his  lips,  when  his 

eye  fell  on  an  object  lying 
on  the  rock  beside  him  ; 
he  thought  it  moved.  It 
was  a  small  c 
ently  in  the  last  agony  of 
death  from  thirst.  Its 
tongue  was  out,  its  jaws 
dry,  its  limbs  extended 
lifelessly,  and  a  swarm  of 
black  ants  were  crawling 
about  its  lips  and  throat. 
Its   eye  moved  to  the 


bottle  which  Hans  held  in  his  hand.  He  raised  it,  drank, 
spurned  the  animal  with  his  foot,  and  passed  on.  And  he  did 
not  know  how  it  was,  but  he  thought  that  a  strange  shadow 
had  suddenly  come  across  the  blue  sky. 

The  path  became  steeper  and  more  rugged  every  moment ; 


OR,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


and  the  high  hill  air,  instead  of  refreshing  him,  seemed  to 
throw  his  blood  into  a  fever.  The  noise  of  the  hill  cataracts 
sounded  like  mockery  in  his  ears  ;  they  were  all  distant,  and 
his  thirst  increased  every  moment.  Another  hour  passed,  and 
he  again  looked  down  to  the  flask  at  his  side  ;  it  was  half 
empty  ;  but  there  was  much  more  than  three  drops  in  it. 
He  stopped  to  open  it,  and  again,  as  he  did  so,  something 
moved  in  the  path  above  him.  It  was  a  fair  child,  stretched 
nearly  lifeless  on  the  rock,  its  breast  heaving  with  thirst,  its 
eyes  closed,  and  its  lips  parched  and  burning.  Hans  eyed  it 
deliberately,  drank,  and  passed  on.  And  a  dark  gray  cloud 
came  over  the  sun,  and  long,  snake-like  shadows  crept  up. 
along  the  mountain  sides.  Hans  struggled  on.  The  sun  was 
sinking,  but  its  descent  seemed  to  bring  no  coolness ;  the 
leaden  weight  of  the  dead  air  pressed  upon  his  brow  and 
heart,  but  the  goal  was  near.  He  saw  the  cataract  of  the 
Golden  River  springing  from  the  hillside,  scarcely  five  hun- 
dred feet  above  him.  He  paused  for  a  moment  to  breathe,  and 
sprang  on  to  complete  his  task. 

At  this  instant  a  faint  cry  fell  on  his  ear.  He  turned,  and 
saw  a  gray-haired  old  man  extended  on  the  rocks.  His  eyes 
were  sunk,  his  features  deadly  pale,  and  gathered  into  an  ex- 
pression of  despair.  "Water!"  he  stretched  his  arms  to 
Hans,  and  cried  feebly  ;  "  Water  !  I  am  dying." 

"I  have  none,"  replied  Hans  ;  "thou  hast  had  thy  share  of 
life."  He  strode  over  the  prostrate  body,  and  darted  on.  And 
a  flash  of  blue  lightning  rose  out  of  the  east,  shaped  like  a 
sword  ;  it  shook  thrice  over  the  whole  heaven,  and  left  it  dark 
with  one  heavy,  impenetrable  shade.  The  sun  was  setting  ;  it 
plunged  toward  the  horizon  like  a  red-hot  ball. 

The  roar  of  the  Golden  River  rose  on  Hans'  ear.  He  stood 
at  the  brink  of  the  chasm  through  which  it  ran.  Its  waves 
were  filled  with  the  red  glory  of  the  sunset  :  they  shook  their 
crests  like  tongues  of  fire,  and  flashes  of  bloody  light  gleamed 
along  their  foam.  Their  sound  came  mightier  and  mightier 
on  his  senses  ;  his  brain  grew  giddy  with  the  prolonged  thun- 
der. Shuddering  he  drew  the  flask  from  his  girdle,  and  hurled 
it  into  the  centre  of  the  torrent.    As  he  did  so,  an  icy  chili 


^64  TEE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 

shot  through  his  limbs  ;  he  staggered,  shrieked,  and  fell.  The 
waters  closed  over  his  cry.  And  the  moaning  of  the  river  rose 
wildly  into  the  night,  as  it  gushed  over 


The  Black  Stone, 


OR,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


265 


CHAPTEE  IV. 

How  Mr.  Schwartz  set  off  on  an  Expedition  to  the  Goldeh 
River,  and  how  he  prospered  therein.  . 

OR  little  Gluck  waited  very 
anxiously  alone  in  the  house 
for  Hans'  return.  Finding- 
he  did  not  come  back,  he  was 
terribly  frightened,  and  went 
and  told  Schwartz  in  the 
prison  all  that  had  happen- 
ed. Then  Schwartz  was  very 
much  pleased,  and  said  that 
Hans  must  certainly  have 
been  turned  into  a  black 
stone,  and  he  should  have  all 
the  gold  to  himself.  But 
Gluck  was  very  sorry,  and 
cried  all  night.  When  he  got 
up  in  the  morning,  there  was  no  bread  in  the  house,  nor  any 
money  :  so  Gluck  went  and  hired  himself  to  another  gold- 
smith, and  he  worked  so  hard,  and  so  neatly,  and  so  long 
every  day,  that  he  soon  got  money  enough  together  to  pay  his 
brother's  fine,  and  he  went  and  gave  it  all  to  Schwartz,  and 
Schwartz  got  out  of  prison.  Then  Schwartz  was  quite  pleased, 
and  said  he  should  have  some  of  the  gold  of  the  river.  But 
Gluck  only  begged  he  would  go  and  see  what  had  become  of 
Hans. 

Now,  when  Schwartz  had  heard  that  Hans  had  stolen  the 
holy  water,  he  thought  to  himself  that  such  a  proceeding  might 
not  be  considered  altogether  correct  by  the  King  of  the  Golden 
River,  and  determined  to  manage  matters  better.  So  he  took 
some  more  of  Gluck's  money,  and  went  to  a  bad  priest,  who 


266  THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


gave  liim  some  holy  water  very  readily  for  it.  Then  Schwartz 
was  sure  it  was  all  quite  right.    So  Schwartz  got  up  early  in 


he  was 
surprised  at 
sight  of  the  glacier, 
and  had  great  diffi- 
culty in  crossing  it, 
even  after  leaving  his 
basket  behind  him. 
The  day  was  cloud- 
less, but  not  bright  : 
leavy 

purple  haze  hanging 
over  the  sky,  and  the 
hills  looked  lowering 
loomy.  And  as 
Schwartz  climbed  the 
steep  rock  path,  the 
thirst  came  upon  him, 
as  it  had  upon  his 
brother,  until  he  lifted 
his  flask  to  his  lips  to 
drink.  Then  he  saw 
the  fair  child  lying  near  him  on  the  rocks,  and  it  cried  to  him, 
and  moaned  for  water.  "  Water,  indeed,"  said  Schwartz  ;  "I 
haven't  half  enough  for  myself,"  and  passed  on.  And  as  he 
went  he  thought  the  sunbeams  grew  more  dim,  and  he  say/  a 
low  bank  of  black  cloud  rising  out  of  the  west ;  and  when 
he  had  climbed  for  another  hour  the  thirst  overcame  him 
again,  and  he  would  have  drunk.  Then  he  saw  the  old  man 
lying  before  him  on  the  path,  and  heard  him  cry  out  for 


OR,  TEE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


267 


water.  u  Water,  indeed,"  said  Schwartz;  "  I  haven't  hail 
enough  for  myself,"  and  on  he  went. 

Then  again  the  light  seemed  to  fade  from  before  his  eyes, 
and  he  looked  up,  and,  behold,  a  mist,  of  the  color  of  blood, 
had  come  over  the  sun  ;  and  the  bank  of  black  cloud  had 
risen  very  high,  and  its  edges  were  tossing  and  tumbling  like 
the  waves  of  the  angry  sea.  And  they  cast  long  shadows, 
which  flickered  over  Schwartz's  path. 

Then  Schwartz  climbed  for  another  hour,  and  again  his  thirst 
returned  ;  and  as  he  lifted  his  flask  to  his  lips,  he  thought 
he  saw  his  brother  Hans  lying  exhausted  on  the  path  before 
him,  and,  as  he  gazed,  the  figure  stretched  its  arms  to  him, 
and  cried  for  water.  "Ha,  ha,"  laughed  Schwartz,  "  are  you 
there  ?  remember  the  prison  bars,  my  boy.  Water,  in- 
deed !  do  you  suppose  I  carried  it  all  the  way  up  here  for 
you  ?  "  And  he  strode  over  the  figure  ;  yet,  as  he  passed, 
he  thought  he  saw  a  strange  expression  of  mockery  about  its 
lips.  And,  when  he  had  gone  a  few  yards  farther,  he  looked 
back  ;  but  the  figure  was  not  there. 

And  a  sudden  horror  came  over  Schwartz,  he  knew  not 
why  ;  but  the  thirst  for  gold  prevailed  over  his  fear,  and  he 
rushed  on.  And  the  bank  of  black  cloud  rose  to  the  zenith, 
and  out  of  it  came  bursts  of  spiry  lightning,  and  waves  of 
darkness  seemed  to  heave  and  float  between  their  flashes,  over 
the  whole  heavens.  And  the  sky,  where  the  sun  was  setting, 
was  all  level,  and  like  a  lake  of  blood  ;  and  a  strong  wind 
came  out  of  that  sky,  tearing  its  crimson  clouds  into  frag- 
ments, and  scattering  them  far  into  the  darkness.  And,  when 
Schwartz  stood  by  the  brink  of  the  Golden  River,  its  waves 
were  black,  like  thunder  clouds,  but  their  foam  was  like  fire  ; 
and  the  roar  of  the  waters  below  and  the  thunder  above  met, 
as  he  cast  the  flask  into  the  stream.  And,  as  he  did  so,  the 
lightning  glared  in  his  eyes,  and  the  earth  gave  way  beneath 
him,  and  the  waters  closed  over  his  cry.  And  the  moaning 
of  the  river  rose  wildly  into  the  night,  as  it  gushed  over  the 


Two  Black  Stones, 


268 


THE  KINO  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


CHAPTEE  V. 


HOW  LITTLE  GlUCK  SET  OFF  ON  AN  EXPEDITION  TO  THE  GOLDEN 

River,  and  how  he  prospered  therein  ;  with  other  matters 

OF  INTEREST. 


" The  little  king  looked  very  kind,"  thought  he.  "I  don't 
think  he  will  turn  me  into  a  black  stone."  So  he  went  to  the 
priest,  and  the  priest  gave  him  some  holy  water  as  soon  as  he 
asked  for  it.  Then  Gluck  took  some  bread  in  his  basket,  and 
the  bottle  of  water,  and  set  off  very  early  for  the  mountains. 

If  the  glacier  had  occasioned  a  great  deal  of  fatigue  to  his 
brothers,  it  was  twenty  times  worse  for  him,  who  was  neither 
so  strong  nor  so  practised  on  the  mountains.  He  had  several 
very  bad  falls,  lost  his  basket  and  bread,  and  was  very  much 
frightened  at  the  strange  noises  under  the  ice.  He  lay  a  long 
time  to  rest  on  the  grass,  after  he  had  got  over,  and  began  to 
climb  the  hill  just  in  the  hottest  part  of  the  day.  When  he 
had  climbed  for  an  hour,  he  got  dreadfully  thirsty,  and  was 
going  to  drink,  like  his  brothers,  when  he  saw  an  old  man 
coming  down  the  path  above  him,  looking  very  feeble,  and 
leaning  on  a  staff.    "  My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "lam  faint 


HEN  Gluck  found  that  Schwartz 
did  not  come  back,  he  was  very 
sorry,  and  did  not  know  what 
to  do.  He  had  no  money,  and 
was  obliged  to  go  and  hire  him- 
self again  to  the  goldsmith, 
who  worked  him  very  hard,  and 
gave  him  very  little  money. 
So,  after  a  month  or  two, 
Gluck  grew  tired,  and  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  and  try  his 
fortune  with  the  Golden  Eiver. 


OR,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


2G9 


with  thirst,  give  me  some  of  that  water."  Then  Gluck  looked 
at  him,  and  when  he  saw  that  he  was  pale  and  weary,  he  gave 
him  the  water ;  fC  Only,  pray,  don't  drink  it  all,"  said  Gluck. 
But  the  old  man  drank  a  great  deal,  and  gave  him  back  the 
bottle  two-thirds  empty.  Then  he  bade  him  good  speed,  and 
Gluck  went  on  again  merrily.  And  the  path  became  easier  to 
his  feet,  and  two  or  three  blades  of  grass  appeared  upon  if, 
and  some  grasshoppers  began  singing  on  the  bank  beside  it ; 
and  Gluck  thought  he  had  never  heard  such  merry  singing. 

Then  he  went  on  for  another  hour,  and  the  thirst  increased 
on  him  so  that  he  thought  he  should  be  forced  to  drink.  But, 


as  he  raised  the  flask,  he  saw  a  little  child  lying  panting  by 
the  roadside,  and  it  cried  out  piteously  for  water.  Then 
Gluck  struggled  with  himself,  and  determined  to  bear  the 
thirst  a  little  longer  ;  and  he  put  the  bottle  to  the  child's  lips, 
and  it  drank  it  all  but  a  few  drops.  Then  it  smiled  on  him, 
and  got  up,  and  ran  down  the  hill ;  and  Gluck  looked  after  it, 
till  it  became  as  small  as  a  little  star,  and  then  turned  and 
began  climbing  again.  And  then  there  were  all  kinds  of 
sweet  flowers  growing  on  the  rocks,  bright  green  moss  with 
pale  pink  starry  flowers,  and  soft  belled  gentians,  more  blue 
than  the  sky  at  its  deepest,  and  pure  white  transparent  lilies. 
And  crimson  and  purple  butterflies  darted  hither  and  thither, 
and  the  sky  sent  down  such  pure  light,  that  Gluck  had  never 
felt  so  happy  in  his  life. 


270 


THE  KINO  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER; 


Yet,  when  he  had  climbed  for  another  hour,  his  thirst  be* 

came  intolerable 
again  ;  and,  when 
he  looked  at  his 
bottle,  he  saw  that 
there  were  only 
five  or  six  drops 
left  in  it,  and  he 
could  not  venture 
to  drink.  And,  as 
he  was  hanging 
the  flask   to  his 
j  \       belt  again,  he  saw 
j  ^\    a  little  dog  lying 
jl^   ,   on  the  rocks,  gasp- 
(1  tf    iug  for  breath — 
^Wk   just  as  Hans  had 
™^    seen  it  on  the  day 
of  his  ascent.  And 
Gluck  stopped 
and  looked  at  it, 
and  then  at  the 
Golden  River,  not 
five  hundred 
yards  above  him  ; 
and  he  thought  of 
the  dwarf's  words, 
"  that     no  one 
could  succeed,  ex- 
cept in  his  first 
\    attempt ; "  and  he 
tried  to  pass  the 
dog,  but  it  whined 
piteously,  and 
Gluck  stopped 
a^ain.   «  Poor  beastie,"  said  Gluck,  "  it'll  be  dead  when  I  come 
down  again,  if  I  don't  help  it."    Then  he  looked  closer  and 
closer  at  it,  and  its  eye  turned  on  him  so  mournfully,  that  he 


On,  THE  BLACK  BROTHERS. 


211 


could  not  stand  it.  "  Confound  the  King,  and  his  gold  too," 
said  Gluek  ;  and  he  opened  the  flask,  and  poured  all  the  water 
into  the  dog's  mouth. 

The  dog  sprang  up  and  stood  on  its  hind  legs.  Its  tail 
disappeared,  its  ears  became  long,  longer,  silky,  golden ;  its 
nose  became  very  red,  its  eyes  became  very  twinkling ;  in 
three  seconds  the  dog  was  gone,  and  before  Gluck  stood  his 
old  acquaintance,  the  King  of  the  Golden  River. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  monarch  ;  "  but  don't  be  frightened, 
its  all  right  ; "  for  Gluck  showed  manifest  symptoms  of  con- 
sternation at  this  unlooked-for  reply  to  his  last  observation. 
4 4 Why  didn't  you  come  before,"  continued  the  dwarf,  "in- 
stead of  sending  me  those  rascally  brothers  of  yours,  for  me 
to  have  the  trouble  of  turning  into  stones  ?  Very  hard  stones 
they  make  too." 

"Oh  dear  me!"  said  Gluck,  "have  you  really  been  so 
cruel  ?  " 

"Cruel !  "  said  the  dwarf,  "they  poured  unholy  water  into 
my  stream  :  do  you  suppose  I'm  going  to  allow  that  ?  " 

"  Why,"  said  Gluck,  "I  am  sure,  sir — y  our  majesty,  I  mean 
— they  got  the  water  out  of  the  church-font." 

"Very  probably,"  replied  the  dwarf  ;  "  but,"  and  his  coun- 
tenance grew  stern  as  he  spoke,  "  the  water  which  has  been 
refused  to  the  cry  of  the  weary  and  dying  is  unholy,  though 
it  had  been  blessed  by  every  saint  in  heaven  ;  and  the  water 
which  is  found  in  the  vessel  of  mercy  is  holy,  though  it  had 
been  denied  with  corpses." 

So  saying,  the  dwarf  stooped  and  plucked  a  lily  that  grew 
at  his  feet.  On  its  white  leaves  there  hung  three  drops  of 
clear  dew.  And  the  dwarf  shook  them  into  the  flask  which 
Gluck  held  in  his  hand.  "Cast  these  into  the  river,"  he  said, 
*&  and  descend  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountains  into  the 
Treasure  Valley.    And  so  good  speed." 

As  he  spoke,  the  figure  of  the  dwarf  became  indistinct. 
The  playing  colors  of  his  robe  formed  themselves  into  a  pris- 
matic mist  of  dewy  light :  he  stood  for  an  instant  veiled  with 
them  as  with  the  belt  of  a  broad  rainbow.  The  colors  grew 
faint,  the  mist  rose  into  the  air  ;  the  monarch  had  evaporated. 


272 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GOLDEN  RIVER 


And  Gluck  climbed  to  the  brink  of  the  Golden  River,  and 
its  waves  were  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  as  brilliant  as  the  sun. 
And,  when  he  cast  the  three  drops  of  dew  into  the  stream, 
there  opened  where  they  fell  a-  small  circular  whirlpool,  into 
which  the  waters  descended  with  a  musical  noise. 

Gluck  stood  watching  it  for  some  time,  very  much  disap- 
pointed, because  not  only  the  river  was  not  turned  into  gold, 
but  its  waters  seemed  much  diminished  in  quantity.  Yet  he 
obeyed  his  friend  the  dwarf,  and  descended  the  other  side  of 
the  mountains,  toward  the  Treasure  Valley  ;  and,  as  he  went, 
he  thought  he  heard  the  noise  of  water  working  its  way  under 
the  ground.  And,  when  he  came  in  sight  of  the  Treasure 
Valley,  behold,  a  river,  like  the  Golden  River,  was  springing 
from  a  new  cleft  of  the  rocks  above  it,  and  was  flowing  in  in- 
numerable streams  among  the  dry  heaps  of  red  sand. 

And  as  Gluck  gazed,  fresh  grass  sprang  beside  the  new 
streams,  and  creeping  plants  grew,  and  climbed  among  the 
moistening  soil.'  Young  flowers  opened  suddenly  along  the 
river-sides,  as  stars  leap  out  when  twilight  is  deepening,  and 
thickets  of  myrtle,  and  tendrils  of  vine,  cast  lengthening 
shadows  over  the  valley  as  they  grew.  And  thus  the  Treasure 
Valley  became  a  garden  again,  and  the  inheritance  which 
had  been  lost  by  cruelty  was  regained  by  love. 

And  Gluck  went  and  dwelt  in  the  valley,  and  the  poor 
were  never  driven  from  his  door  :  so  that  his  barns  became 
full  of  corn,  and  his  house  of  treasure.  And,  for  him,  the 
river  had,  according  to  the  dwarf's  promise,  become  a  River 
of  Gold. 

And,  to  this  day,  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley  point  out 
the  place  where  the  three  drops  of  holy  dew  were  cast  in- 
to the  stream,  and  trace  the  course  of  the  Golden  River 
under  the  ground,  until  it  emerges  in  the  Treasure  Valley. 
And  at  the  top  of  the  cataract  of  the  Golden  River  are  still  to 
be  seen  two  black  stones,  round  which  the  waters  howl 
mournfully  every  day  at  sunset ;  and  these  stones  are  still 
called  by  the  people  of  the  valley 


The  Black  Brothers. 


DAME  WIGGINS  OF  LEE. 

AAD  HER 

SEVEN  WOiNDERFUL  CATS. 


A  HUMOUROUS  TALE, 

WRITTEN  PRINCIPALLY  BY  A  LADY  OF  NINETY. 

EMBELLISHED  WITH  EIGHTEEN  COLOURED  ENGRAVINGS, 


VBIKTED  FOB 

A.  K.  NEWMAN  &  Co.    LEA DENH ALL-STREET. 
1823. 


DAME  WIGGINS  of  Lee 
Was  a  worthy  old  soul, 
As  e'er  threaded  a  nee- 
die,  or  wash'd  in  a  bowl : 
She  held  mice  and  rats 
In  such  antipa-.thy ; 
That  seven  fine  eats 
Kept  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee. 


The  rats  and  mice  scared 
By  this  fierce  whisker' d  crew, 
The  poor  seven  cats 
Soon  had  nothing  to  do ; 

So,  as  anv  one  idle 
She  ne'er  loved  to  see, 
She  sent  them  to  school. 
Did  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee* 


The  Master  soon  wrote 
That   they  all  of  them  knew 
How  to  read  the  word   "  milk " 
And  to  spell  the  word   u  mew." 
And  they  all   washed  their  faces 
Before   they  took   tea : 
*  Were   there   ever  such   dears  1 9 
Said  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee. 

3 


He   had   also   thought  well 
To   comply  with   their  wish 
To   spend   all   their  play-time 
In   learning   to  fish 
For  stitlings ;  they  sent  her 
.A   present  of  three, 
Which*  fried,  were   a  feast 
For  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee* 


But  soon  she  grew  tired 
Of  living  alone  ; 
So  she  sent  for  her  eats 
From  school  to  come  home* 
Each  rowing  a  wherry, 
Returning  yon  see : 
The  frolic  made  merry 
Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee0 


Hie  Dame  was  quite  pleas'd, 

And  ran  out  to  market; 

When  she  came  back 

They  were  mending  the  carpet. 

The  needle  each  handled 

As  brisk  as  a  bee ; 

M  Well  done,  my  good  eats/' 

Said  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee* 


To  give  them  a  treat, 
She  ran  out  for  some  rice ; 
When  she  came  back, 
They  were  skating  on  ice. 
"  J  shall  soon  see  one  down^ 
Aje7  perhaps 5  two  or  three, 
1?U  bet  half-a-crown3,f 
Said  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee. 

7 


When   spring-time   came  bade 
They  bad  breakfast  of  curds  s 
And   were  greatly  afraid 
Of  disturbing  the  birds. 
"  If  you  sit,  like  good  eats, 
All  the  seven  in  a  tree. 
They  will  teach  you  to  sing  S 
Said  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee, 

s 


So  they  sat  in   a  tree, 

And  said  "Beautiful!  Hark ! " 

And  they  listened  and  looked 

In  the  clouds  for  the  lark. 

Then  sang,  by  the  fireside, 

Syniphonious-ly, 

A  song  without  words 

To   Dame   Wiggins  of  Lee. 


They   called   the  next  day 

On  the   tomtit  and  sparrow, 

And  wheeled  a  poor  sick  lamb 

Home  in  a  barrow* 

"  You.  shall  all  have   some  sprats 

For  vour  humani-tv. 

My  seven  good  cats,9* 

Said  Dame   Wiggins  of  Lee, 


While  she  ran  to  the  field, 
To  look  for  its  dam$ 
They  were  warming  the  bed 
For  the  poor  sick  Iamb  : 
They  turn'd  up  the  clothes 
All  as  neat  as  could  be ; 
"  I  shall  ne'er  want  a  nurse, 
Said  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee. 

IE 


She  wished  them  good  night, 
And  went  up  to  hod : 
When,  lo !   in  the  morning. 
The  cats  were  all  fled. 
But  soon — what  a  ftiss ! 
**  Where  can  thev  all  be  ? 
Here,  pussy,  puss,  puss !  " 
Cried  Dame   Wiggins  of  Lee/ 


The  Dame's  heart  was  nigh  broke. 
So  she  sat  down   tar  weep, 
When  she   saw  them  come  hack 
Each  riding'  a  sheep : 
She  fondled  and  patted 
Each  purring1  Tom -my : 
"  Ah  !  welcome,  my  dears/' 
Said   Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee, 


The   Dame  was  unable 
Her  pleasure  to  smother ; 
To  see  the  sick  Lamb 
Jump  up  to  its  mother* 
la  spite  of  the  gout, 
And  a  pain  in  her  knee, 
She  went  dancing  about ; 
Did  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee. 


The  Farmer  soon  heard 
Where  his  sheep  went  astray, 
And  arrived  at  Dame's  door 
With  his  faithful  dog  Tray. 
He  knocked  with  his  crook5 
And  the  stranger  to  see, 
Out  of  window  did  look 
Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee6 


For  their  kindness  he  had  them 

All  drawn  by  his  team  ; 

And  gave  them  some  field- mice, 

And  raspberry- cream. 

Said  he,  "  All  mv  stock 

You  shall  presently  see ; 

Eor  I  honour  the  cats 

Of  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee  " 

i6 


Me  sent'  his  maid  out 
For  some  muffins  and  crumpets ; 
And  when  lie  turn'd  round 
They  were  Mowing  of  trumpets* 
Said  he*  66 1  suppose* 
She's  as  deaf  as  can  be* 
Or  this  ne'er  could  be  borne 
By  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee/* 

i7 


To  show  them  his  poultry, 
He  -turn'd  them  all  loose. 
When  each  nimbly  leap'd 
On  the  back  of  a  Goose* 
Which  fnghten'd  them  so 
That  they  ran  to  the  sea, 
And  half- drown 9d  the  poor  cats 
Of  Daine  Wiggins  of  Lee. 

IS 


For  the  care  of  his  Iamb, 
And  their  comical  pranks, 
He  gave  them  a  ham 
And  abundance  of  thanks. 
"  i  wish  you  good-clay, 
My-  fine  fellows/'  said  he; 
"  My  compliments,  pray, 
To  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee; 

19  * 


You  see  them  arrived 
At  their  Dame's  welcome  door ; 
They  show  her  their  presents, 
And  all  their  good  store. 
"  New  come  in  to  supper, 
And  sit  down  with  me  ; 
Ail  welcome  once  more/* 
Cried  Dame  Wiggins  of  Lee, 


20 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST 

TEN  LECTURES 

ON  THE  RELATION  OF  NATURAL  SCIENCE  TO  ART 

GIVEN  BEFORE  THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  OXFORD 
IN  LENT  TERM,  1872 


PREFACE. 


The  following  Lectures  have  been  written,  not  with  less  care 
but  with  less  pains,  than  any  in  former  courses,  because  no 
labour  could  have  rendered  them  exhaustive  statements  of 
their  subjects,  and  I  wished,  therefore,  to  take  from  them 
every  appearance  of  pretending  to  be  so  :  but  the  assertions 
I  have  made  are  entirely  deliberate,  though  their  terms  are 
unstudied ;  and  the  one  which  to  the  general  reader  will  ap- 
pear most  startling,  that  the  study  of  anatomy  is  destructive 
to  art,  is  instantly  necessary  in  explanation  of  the  system 
adopted  for  the  direction  of  my  Oxford  schools. 

At  the  period  when  engraving  might  have  become  to  art 
what  printing  became  to  literature,  the  four  greatest  point- 
draughtsmen  hitherto  known,  Mantegna,  Sandro  Botticelli, 
Durer,  and  Holbein,  occupied  themselves  in  the  new  industry. 
All  these  four  men  were  as  high  in  intellect  and  moral  senti- 
ment as  in  art-power ;  and  if  they  had  engraved  as  Giotto 
painted,  with  popular  and  unscientific  simplicity,  would  have 
left  an  inexhaustible  series  of  prints,  delightful  to  the  most 
innocent  minds,  and  strengthening  to  the  most  noble. 

But  two  of  them,  Mantegna  and  Durer,  were  so  polluted 
and  paralyzed  by  the  study  of  anatomy  that  the  former's  best 
yorks  (the  magnificent  mythology  of  the  Vices  in  the  Louvre, 
for  instance)  are  entirely  revolting  to  all  women  and  children  ; 
while  Durer  never  could  draw  one  beautiful  female  form  or 
face  ;  and,  of  his  important  plates,  only  four,  the  Melencholia, 
St.  Jerome  in  his  study,  St.  Hubert,  and  Knight  and  Death, 
are  of  any  use  for  popular  instruction,  because  in  these  only, 
the  figures  being  fuliy  draped  or  armed,  he  was  enabled  to 


300 


PREFACE. 


think  and  feel  rightly,  being  delivered  from  the  ghastly  toil 
of  bone-delineation. 

Botticelli  and  Holbein  studied  the  face  first,  and  the  limbs 
secondarily ;  and  the  works  they  have  left  are  therefore  with- 
out exception  precious ;  yet  saddened  and  corrupted  by  the 
influence  which  the  contemporary  masters  of  body-drawing 
exercised  on  them  ;  and  at  last  eclipsed  by  their  false  fame. 
I  purpose,  therefore,  in  my  next  course  of  lectures,  to  explain 
the  relation  of  these  two  draughtsmen  to  other  masters  of  de- 
sign, and  of  engraving. 

Bbantwood,  Sept.  2nd,  1872. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


LECTUKE  I. 

OF  WISDOM  AND  FOLLY  IN  ART.* 

8th  February,  1872. 

1.  The  Lectures  I  have  given  hitherto,  though,  in  the  matter 
of  them  conscientiously  addressed  to  my  undergraduate  pu- 
pils, yet  were  greatly  modified  in  method  by  my  feeling  that 
this  undergraduate  class,  to  which  I  wished  to  speak,  was 
indeed  a  somewhat  imaginary  one  ;  and  that,  in  truth,  I  was 
addressing  a  mixed  audience,  in  greater  part  composed  of 
the  masters  of  the  University,  before  whom  it  was  my  duty  to 
lay  down  the  principles  on  which  I  hoped  to  conduct,  or  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  conduct  of,  these  schools,  rather  than  to 
enter  on  the  immediate  work  of  elementary  teaching.  But 
to-day,  and  henceforward  most  frequently,  we  are  to  be  en- 
gaged in  definite,  and,  I  trust,  continuous  studies ;  and  from 
this  time  forward,  I  address  myself  wholly  to  my  under- 
graduate pupils  ;  and  wish  only  that  my  Lectures  may  be  ser- 
viceable to  them,  and,  as  far  as  the  subject  may  admit  of  it, 
interesting. 

2.  And,  farther  still,  I  must  ask  even  my  younger  hearers  to 
pardon  me  if  I  treat  that  subject  in  a  somewhat  narrow,  and 
simple  way.  They  have  a  great  deal  of  hard  work  to  do  in 
other  schools  :  in  these,  they  must  not  think  that  I  underrate 
their  powers,  if  I  endeavour  to  make  everything  as  easy  to 

*  The  proper  titles  of  these  lectures,  too  long  for  page  headings,  are 
given  in  the  Contents. 


302 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


them  as  possible*  No  study  that  is  worth  pursuing  seriously 
can  be  pursued  without  effort ;  but  we  need  never  make  the 
effort  painful  merely  for  the  sake  of  preserving  our  dignity. 
Also,  I  shall  make  my  Lectures  shorter  than  heretofore. 
What  I  tell  you,  I  wish  you  to  remember  ;  and  I  do  not  think  it 
possible  for  you  to  remember  well  much  more  than  I  can  easily 
tell  you  in  half-an-hour.  I  will  promise  that,  at  all  events, 
you  shall  always  be  released  so  well  within  the  hour,  that  you 
can  keep  any  appointment  accurately  for  the  next.  You  will 
not  think  me  indolent  in  doing  this  ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  I 
can  assure  you,  it  sometimes  takes  me  a  week  to  think  over 
what  it  does  not  take  a  minute  to  say  :  and,  secondly,  believe 
me,  the  least  part  of  the  work  of  any  sound  art-teacher  must 
be  his  talking.  Nay,  most  deeply  also,  it  is  to  be  wished  that, 
with  respect  to  the  study  which  I  have  to  bring  before  you 
to-day,  in  its  relation  to  art,  namely,  natural  philosophy,  the 
teachers  of  it,  up  to  this  present  century,  had  done  less  work 
in  talking,  and  more  in  observing  :  and  it  would  be  well  even 
for  the  men  of  this  century,  pre-eminent  and  accomplished  as 
they  are  in  accuracy  of  observation,  if  they  had  completely 
conquered  the  old  habit  of  considering,  with  respect  to  any 
matter,  rather  what  is  to  be  said,  than  what  is  to  be  known. 

3.  You  will,  perhaps,  readily  admit  this  with  respect  to 
science ;  and  believe  my  assertion  of  it  with  respect  to  art. 
You  will  feel  the  probable  mischief,  in  both  these  domains  of 
intellect,  which  must  follow  on  the  desire  rather  to  talk  than 
to  know,  and  rather  to  talk  than  to  do.  But  the  third  domain, 
into  the  midst  of  which,  here,  in  Oxford,  science  and  art 
seem  to  have  thrust  themselves  hotly,  like  intrusive  rocks,  not 
without  grim  disturbance  of  the  anciently  fruitful  plain 
your  Kingdom  or  Princedom  of  Literature  ?  Can  we  carry 
our  statement  into  a  third  parallelism,  for  that  ?  It  is  ill  for 
Science,  we  say,  when  men  desire  to  talk  rather  than  to  know ; 
ill  for  Art,  when  they  desire  to  talk  rather  than  to  do.  HI 
for  Literature  when  they  desire  to  talk, — is  it?  and  rather 
than — what  else  ?  Perhaps  you  think  that  literature  means 
nothing  else  than  talking  ?  that  the  triple  powers  of  science, 
art,  and  scholarship,  mean  simply  the  powers  of  knowing, 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


303 


doing,  and  saying.  But  that  is  not  so  in  any  wise.  The 
faculty  of  saying  or  writing  anything  well,  is  an  art,  just  as 
much  as  any  other  ;  and  founded  on  a  science  as  definite  as 
any  other.  Professor  Max  Midler  teaches  you  the  science  of 
language  ;  and  there  are  people  who  will  tell  you  that  the  only 
art  I  can  teach  you  myself,  is  the  art  of  it.  But  try  your  triple 
parallelism  once  more,  briefly,  and  see  if  another  idea  will  not 
occur  to  you.  In  science,  you  must  not  talk  before  you 
know.  In  art,  you  must  not  talk  before  you  do.  In  litera- 
ture, you  must  not  talk  before  you — think. 

That  is  your  third  Province.  The  Kingdom  of  Thought, 
or  Conception. 

And  it  is  entirely  desirable  that  you  should  define  to  your- 
selves the  three  great  occupations  of  men  in  these  following 
terms : — 

Science  The  knowledge  of  things,  whether  Ideal  or 

Substantial. 

Art  o ......... .  The  modification  of  Substantial  things  by  our 

Substantial  Power. 
Literature  .....  The  modification  of  Ideal  things  by  our  Ideal 

Power. 

4.  But  now  observe.  If  this  division  be  a  just  one,  we 
ought  to  have  a  word  for  literature,  with  the  '  Letter '  left  out 
of  it.  It  is  true  that,  for  the  most  part,  the  modification  of 
ideal  things  by  our  ideal  power  is  not  complete  till  it  is  ex- 
pressed ;  nor  even  to  ourselves  delightful,  till  it  is  communi- 
cated. To  letter  it  and  label  it — to  inscribe  and  to  word  it 
rightly, — this  is  a  great  task,  and  it  is  the  part  of  literature 
which  can  be  most  distinctly  taught.  But  it  is  only  the 
formation  of  its  body.  And  the  soul  of  it  can  exist  without 
the  body  ;  but  not  at  all  the  body  without  the  soul ;  for  that 
is  true  no  less  of  literature  than  of  all  else  in  us  or  of  us — 
"litera  occidit,  spiritus  autem  vivificat." 

Nevertheless,  I  must  be  content  to-day  with  our  old  word* 
We  cannot  say  *  spiriture '  nor  '  animature,'  instead  of  litera- 
ture ;  but  you  must  not  be  content  with  the  vulgar  interpret 


304 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


tation  of  the  word.  Remember  always  that  you  come  to  this 
University, — or,  at  least,  your  fathers  came, — not  to  learn 
how  to  say  things,  but  how  to  think  them. 

5.  "  How  to  think  them  !  but  that  is  only  the  art  of  logic," 
you  perhaps  would  answer.  No,  again,  not  at  all :  logic  is  a 
method,  not  a  power ;  and  we  have  defined  literature  to  be 
the  modification  of  ideal  things  by  ideal  power,  not  by  me- 
chanical method.  And  you  come  to  the  University  to  get 
that  power,  or  develope  it ;  not  to  be  taught  the  mere  method 
of  using  it. 

I  say  you  come  to  the  University  for  this  ;  and  perhaps 
some  of  you  are  much  surprised  to  hear  it !  You  did  not 
know  that  you  came  to  the  University  for  any  such  purpose. 
Nay,  perhaps  you  did  not  know  that  you  had  come  to  a  Uni- 
versity at  all  ?  You  do  not  at  this  instant,  some  of  you,  I  am 
well  assured,  know  what  a  University  means.  Does  it  mean, 
for  instance — can  you  answer  me  in  a  moment,  whether  it 
means — a  place  where  everybody  comes  to  learn  something  ; 
or  a  place  where  somebody  comes  to  learn  everything?  It 
means — or  you  are  trying  to  make  it  mean — practically  and 
at  present,  the  first ;  but  it  means  theoretically,  and  always, 
the  last ;  a  place  where  only  certain  persons  come  to  learn 
everything ;  that  is  to  say,  where  those  who  wish  to  be  able  to 
think,  come  to  learn  to  think  :  not  to  think  of  mathematics 
only,  nor  of  morals,  nor  of  surgery,  nor  chemistry,  but  of 
everything,  rightly. 

6.  I  say  you  do  not  all  know  this ;  and  yet,  whether  you 
know  it  or  not, — whether  you  desire  it  or  not, — to  some  ex- 
tent the  everlasting  fitness  of  the  matter  makes  the  facts  con- 
form to  it.  For  we  have  at  present,  observe,  schools  of  three 
kinds,  in  operation  over  the  whole  of  England.  We  have — I 
name  it  first,  though,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  it  is  last  in  influence 
— the  body  consisting  of  the  Royal  Academy,  with  the  Insti- 
tute of  Architects,  and  the  schools  at  Kensington,  and  their 
branches  ;  teaching  various  styles  of  fine  or  mechanical  art. 
We  have,  in  the  second  place,  the  Royal  Society,  as  a  central 
body  ;  and,  as  its  satellites,  separate  companies  of  men  de- 
voted to  each  several  science  :  investigating,  classing,  and 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


305 


describing  facts  with  unwearied  industry.  And,  lastly  and 
chiefly,  we  have  the  great  Universities,  with  all  their  subordi- 
nate public  schools,  distinctively  occupied  in  regulating, — as 
I  think  you  will  at  once  admit, — not  the  language  merely,  nor 
even  the  language  principally,  but  the  modes  of  philosophical 
and  imaginative  thought  in  which  we  desire  that  youth 
Should  be  disciplined,  and  age  informed  and  majestic.  The 
methods  of  language,  and  its  range  ;  the  possibilities  of  its 
beautv,  and  the  necessities  for  its  precision,  are  all  dependent 
upon  the  range  and  dignity  of  the  unspoken  conceptions 
which  it  is  the  function  of  these  great  schools  of  literature  to 
awaken,  and  to  guide. 

7.  The  range  and  dignity  of  conceptions !  Let  us  pause 
a  minute  or  two  at  these  words,  and  be  sure  we  accept  them. 

First,  what  is  a  conception  ?  What  is  this  separate  object 
of  our  work,  as  scholars,  distinguished  from  artists.,  and  from 
men  of  science  ? 

"We  shall  discover  this  better  by  taking  a  simple  instance 
of  the  three  agencies. 

Suppose  that  you  were  actually  on  the  plain  of  Paestum, 
watching  the  drift  of  storm-cloud  which  Turner  has  here 
engraved.*  If  you  had  occupied  yourself  chiefly  in  schools 
of  science,  you  would  think  of  the  mode  in  which  the  elec- 
tricity was  collected  ;  of  the  influence  it  had  on  the  shape 
and  motion  of  the  cloud  ;  of  the  force  and  duration  of  its 
flashes,  and  of  other  such  material  phenomena.  If  you  were 
an  artist,  you  would  be  considering  how  it  might  be  possible, 
with  the  means  at  your  disposal,  to  obtain  the  brilliancy  of 
the  light,  or  the  depth  of  the  gloom.  Finally,  if  you  were  a 
scholar,  as  distinguished  from  either  of  these,  you  would  be 
occupied  with  the  imagination  of  the  state  of  the  temple  in 
former  times  ;  and  as  you  watched  the  thunder-clouds  drift 
past  its  columns,  and  the  power  of  the  God  of  the  heavens 
put  forth,  as  it  seemed,  in  scorn  of  the  departed  power  of  the 
god  who  was  thought  by  the  heathen  to  shake  the  earth — the 
utterance  of  your  mind  would  become,  whether  in  actual 


*  Educational  Series,  No.  8?  E, 


306 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


words  or  not,  such  as  that  of  the  Psalmist : — u  Clouds  and 
darkness  are  round  about  Him — righteousness  and  judgment 
are  the  habitation  of  His  throne."  Your  thoughts  would  take 
that  shape,  of  their  own  accord,  and  if  they  fell  also  into  the 
language,  still  your  essential  scholarship  would  consist,  not 
in  your  remembering  the  verse,  still  less  in  your  knowing 
that  "judgment"  was  a  Latin  word,  and  "throne"  a  Greek 
one  ;  but  in  your  having  power  enough  of  conception,  and 
elevation  enough  of  character,  to  understand  the  nature  of 
justice,  and  be  appalled  before  the  majesty  of  dominion. 

8.  You  come,  therefore,  to  this  University,  I  repeat  once 
again,  that  you  may  learn  how  to  form  conceptions  of  proper 
range  or  grasp,  and  proper  dignity,  or  worthiness.  Keeping 
then  the  ideas  of  a  separate  school  of  art,  and  separate  school 
of  science,  what  have  you  to  learn  in  these  ?  You  would  learn 
in  the  school  of  art,  the  due  range  and  dignity  of  deeds ;  or 
doings — (I  prefer  the  word  to  "makings,"  as  more  general)  ; 
and  in  the  school  of  science,  you  would  have  to  learn  the 
range  and  dignity  of  knowledges. 

Now  be  quite  clear  about  this  :  be  sure  whether  you  really 
agree  with  me  or  not. 

You  come  to  the  School  of  Literature,  I  say,  to  learn  the 
range  and  dignity  of  conceptions. 

To  the  School  of  Art,  to  learn  the  range  and  dignity  of 
Deeds. 

To  the  School  of  Science  to  learn  the  range  and  dignity  of 
Knowledges. 

Do  you  agree  to  that,  or  not?  I  will  assume  that  you 
admit  my  triple  division  ;  but  do  you  think,  in  opposition 
to  me,  that  a  school  of  science  is  still  a  school  of  science, 
whatever  sort  of  knowledge  it  teaches  ;  and  a  school  of  art 
still  a  school  of  art,  whatever  sort  of  deed  it  teaches  ;  and  a 
school  of  literature  still  a  school  of  literature,  whatever  sort 
of  notion  it  teaches  ? 

Do  you  think  that  ?  for  observe,  my  statement  denies  that. 
My  statement  is,  that  a  school  of  literature  teaches  you  to 
have  one  sort  of  conception,  not  another  sort ;  a  school  of 
art  to  do  a  particular  sort  of  deed,  not  another  sort ;  a  school 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


307 


of  science  to  possess  a  particular  sort  of  knowledge,  not  an- 
other sort. 

9.  I  assume  that  you  differ  with  me  on  this  point ; — some 
of  you  certainly  will.  Well  then,  let  me  go  back  a  step.  You 
will  all  go  thus  far  with  me,  that — now  taking  the  Greek  words 
— the  school  of  literature  teaches  you  to  have  vovs,  or  concep- 
tion of  things,  instead  of  avota, — no  conception  of  things ; 
that  the  school  of  art  teaches  you  r^vy  of  things,  instead  of 
areata  ;  and  the  school  of  science,  lirLa-rrnx-q,  instead  of  dyvota 
or  'ignorantia.'  But,  you  recollect,  Aristotle  names  two  other 
faculties  with  these  three, — ^povrjats,  namely,  and  <ro<f>ia.  He 
has  altogether  five,  tc^vt/,  l-nuTTr]^,  <j>p6vr)o-is,  o-o<£ux,  vovs ;  that 
is  to  say,  in  simplest  English, — art,  science,  sense,  wisdom,  and 
wit.  We  have  got  our  art,  science,  and  wit,  set  over  their 
three  domains  ;  and  we  old  people  send  you  young  ones  to 
those  three  schools,  that  you  may  not  remain  artless,  science- 
less,  nor  witless.  But  how  of  the  sense,  and  the  wisdom  ? 
What  domains  belong  to  these  ?  Do  you  think  our  trefoil 
division  should  become  cinquefoil,  and  that  we  ought  to  have 
two  additional  schools  ;  one  of  Philosophia,  and  one  of  Philo- 
phronesia  ?  If  Aristotle's  division  were  right  it  would  be  so. 
But  his  division  is  wrong,  and  he  presently  shows  it  is  ;  for  he 
tells  jou  in  the  next  page,  (in  the  sentence  I  have  so  often 
quoted  to  you,)  that  "  the  virtue  of  art  is  the  wisdom  which 
consists  in  the  wit  of  what  is  honourable."  Now  that  is  per- 
fectly true  ;  but  it  of  course  vitiates  his  division  altogether. 
He  divides  his  entire  subject  into  A,  B,  C,  D,  and  E ;  and 
then  he  tells  you  that  the  virtue  of  A  is  the  B  which  consists 
in  C.  Now  you  will  continually  find,  in  this  way,  that  Aris- 
totle's assertions  are  right,  but  his  divisions  illogical.  It  is 
quite  true  that  the  virtue  of  art  is  the  wisdom  which  consists 
in  the  wit  of  what  is  honourable  ;  but  also  the  virtue  of  sci- 
ence is  the  wit  of  what  is  honourable,  and  in  the  same  sense, 
the  virtue  of  vovs,  or  wit  itself,  consists  in  its  being  the  wit  or 
conception  of  what  is  honourable.  2o<£ia,  therefore,  is  not 
only  the  dperrj  t€x^9,  but,  in  exactly  the  same  sense,  the  apcn} 
c7rto-rr;/xr/9,  and  in  the  same  sense,  it  is  the  dperrj  voov.  And  if 
not  governed  by  <ro<£ta,  each  school  will  teach  the  vicious  con- 


308 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


dition  of  its  own  special  faculty.  As  o-o&a  is  the  aperr}  of  all  \ 
three,  so  pupta  will  be  the  KaKia  of  all  three. 

10.  Now  in  this,  whether  you  agree  with  me  or  not,  let  me  | 
be  at  least  sure  you  understand  me.  2o<£ta,  I  say,  is  the 
virtue,  /xwpta  is  the  vice,  of  all  the  three  faculties  of  art,  science, 
and  literature.  There  is  for  each  of  them  a  negative  and  a 
positive  side,  as  well  as  a  zero.  There  is  nescience  for  zero 
in  science — with  wise  science  on  one  side,  foolish  science  on 
the  other  :  areata  for  zero  in  art,  with  wise  art  on  one  side, 
foolish  art  on  the  other  ;  and  avoca  for  zero  in  vovs,  with  wise 
vovs  on  one  side,  foolish  vovs  on  the  other. 

11.  You  will  smile  at  that  last  expression,  'foolish  vovs.* 
Yet  it  is,  of  all  foolish  things,  the  commonest  and  deadliest. 
We  continually  complain  of  men,  much  more  of  women,  for 
reasoning  ill.  But  it  does  not  matter  how  they  reason,  if  they 
don't  conceive  basely.  Not  one  person  in  a  hundred  is  capa- 
ble of  seriously  reasoning  ;  the  difference  between  man  and 
man  is  in  the  quickness  and  quality,  the  accipitrine  intensity, 
the  olfactory  choice,  of  his  vovs.  Does  he  hawk  at  game  or 
carrion  ?  What  you  choose  to  grasp  with  your  mind  is  the 
question  ; — not  how  you  handle  it  afterwards.  What  does  it 
matter  how  you  build,  if  you  have  bad  bricks  to  build  with  ; 
or  how  you  reason,  if  every  idea  with  which  you  begin  is  foul 
or  false.  And  in  general  all  fatal  false  reasoning  proceeds 
from  people's  having  some  one  false  notion  in  their  hearts, 
with  which  they  are  resolved  that  their  reasoning  shall  comply. 

But,  for  better  illustration,  I  will  now  take  my  own  special 
subject  out  of  the  three  ; — rexvrj.  I  have  said  that  we  have, 
for  its  zero,  arcx^^a,  or  artlessness — in  Latin,  '  inertia,'  opposed 
to  '  ars.'  Well,  then,  we  have,  from  that  zero,  wise  art  on  the 
one  side,  foolish  art  on  the  other  ;  and  the  finer  the  art,  the 
more  it  is  capable  of  this  living  increase,  or  deadly  defect.  I 
will  take,  for  example,  first,  a  very  simple  art,  then  a  finer 
one  ;  but  both  of  them  arts  with  which  most  of  you  are 
thoroughly  acquainted. 

12.  One  of  the  simplest  pieces  of  perfect  art,  which  you 
are  yourselves  in  the  habit  of  practising,  is  the  stroke  of  an 
oar  given  in  true  time.    We  have  defined  art  to  be  the  wise 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


309 


modification  of  matter  by  the  body  (substantial  things  by  sub- 
stantial power,  §  3).  With  a  good  oarstroke  you  displace  a 
certain  quantity  of  water  in  a  wise  way.  Supposing  you 
missed  your  stroke,  and  caught  a  crab,  you  would  displace  a 
certain  quantity  of  water  in  a  foolish  way,  not  only  ineffect- 
ually, but  in  a  way  the  reverse  of  what  you  intended.  The 
perfectness  of  the  stroke  implies  not  only  absolutely  accurate 
knowledge  or  science  of  the  mode  in  which  water  resists  the 
blade  of  an  oar,  but  the  having  in  past  time  met  that  resistance 
repeatedly  with  greater  and  greater  lightness  of  adaptation 
to  the  end  proposed.  That  end  being  perfectly  simple, — the 
advance  of  the  boat  as  far  as  possible  wTith  a  given  expenditure 
of  strength,  you  at  once  recognize  the  degree  in  which  the 
art  falls  short  of,  or  the  artlessness  negatives  your  purpose. 
But  your  being  '  o-o<£oV  as  an  oarsman,  implies  much  more 
than  this  mere  art  founded  on  pure  science.  The  fact  of  your 
being  able  to  row  in  a  beautiful  manner  depends  on  other 
things  than  the  knowledge  of  the  force  of  water,  or  the  re- 
peated practice  of  certain  actions  in  resistance  to  it.  It  im- 
plies the  practice  of  those  actions  under  a  resolved  discipline 
of  the  body,  involving  regulation  of  the  passions.  It  signifies 
submission  to  the  authority,  and  amicable  concurrence  with 
the  humours  of  other  persons  ;  and  so  far  as  it  is  beautifully 
done  at  last,  absolutely  signifies  therefore  a  moral  and  intel- 
lectual rightness,  to  the  necessary  extent  influencing  the  char- 
acter honourably  and  graciously.  This  is  the  sophia,  or  wit, 
of  what  is  most  honourable,  which  is  concerned  in  rowing, 
without  which  it  must  become  no  rowing,  or  the  reverse  of 
rowing. 

13.  Let  us  next  take  example  in  an  art  which  perhaps  you 
will  think  (though  I  hope  not)  much  inferior  to  rowing,  but 
which  is  in  reality  a  much  higher  art — dancing.  I  have  just 
told  you  (§  11)  how  to  test  the  rank  of  arts — namely,  by  their 
corruptibility,  as  you  judge  of  the  fineness  of  organic  sub- 
stance.   The  moria,*  or  folly,  of  rowing,  is  only  ridiculous, 

*  If  the  English  reader  will  pronounce  the  o  in  this  word  as  in  fold, 
and  in  sophia  as  in  sop,  but  accenting  the  o,  not  the  i,  I  need  not  any 
more  disturb  my  pages  with  Greek  types. 


310 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


but  the  moria,  or  folly,  of  dancing,  is  much  worse  than  ridicu- 
lous ;  and,  therefore  you  may  know  that  its  sophia,  or  wis- 
dom, will  be  much  more  beautiful  than  the  wisdom  of  row- 
ing. Suppose,  for  instance,  a  minuet  danced  by  two  lovers, 
both  highly  bred,  both  of  noble  character,  and  very  much  in 
love  with  each  other.  You  would  see,  in  that,  an  art  of  the 
most  highly-finished  kind,  under  the  government  of  a  sophia 
which  dealt  with  the  strongest  passions,  and  most  exquisite 
perceptions  of  beauty,  possible  to  humanity. 

14.  For  example  of  the  contrary  of  these,  in  the  same  art, 
I  cannot  give  you  one  more  definite  than  that  which  I  saw  at, 
I  think,  the  Gaiety  Theatre — but  it  might  have  been  at  any 
London  theatre  now, — two  years  ago. 

The  supposed  scene  of  the  dance  was  Hell,  which  was 
painted  in  the  background  with  its  flames.  The  dancers 
were  supposed  to  be  demons,  and  wore  black  masks,  with  red 
tinsel  for  fiery  eyes  ;  the  same  red  light  was  represented  as 
coming  out  of  their  ears  also.  They  began  their  dance  by 
ascending  through  the  stage  on  spring  trap-doors,  which 
threw  them  at  once  ten  feet  into  the  air  ;  and  its  performance 
consisted  in  the  expression  of  every  kind  of  evil  passion,  in 
frantic  excess. 

15.  You  will  not,  I  imagine,  be  at  a  loss  to  understand  the 
sense  in  which  the  words  sophia  and  moria  are  to  be  rightly 
used  of  these  two  methods  of  the  same  art.  But  those  of 
you  who  are  in  the  habit  of  accurate  thinking  will  at  once 
perceive  that  I  have  introduced  a  new  element  into  my  sub- 
ject by  taking  an  instance  in  a  higher  art.  The  folly  of  row- 
ing consisted  mainly  in  not  being  able  to  row ;  but  this  folly 
of  dancing  does  not  consist  in  not  being  able  to  dance,  but  in 
dancing  well  with  evil  purpose  ;  and  the  better  the  dancing, 
the  worse  the  result. 

And  now  I  am  afraid  I  must  tease  you  by  asking  your  at- 
tention to  what  you  may  at  first  think  a  vain  nicety  in  analy- 
sis, but  the  nicety  is  here  essential,  and  I  hope  thoroughout 
this  course  of  Lectures,  not  to  be  so  troublesome  to  you  again. 

16.  The  mere  negation  of  the  power  of  art — the  zero  of  it 
—you  say,  in  rowing,  is  ridiculous.    It  is,  of  course,  not  less 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


311 


ridiculous  in  dancing.  But  what  do  you  mean  by  ridiculous  ? 
You  mean  contemptible,  so  as  to  provoke  laughter.  The  con- 
tempt, in  either  case,  is  slight,  in  ordinary  society  ;  because, 
though  a  man  may  neither  know  how  to  row,  or  dance,  ho 
may  know  many  other  things.  But  suppose  he  lived  where 
he  could  not  know  many  other  things  ?  By  a  stormy  sea- 
coast,  where  there  could  be  no  fresco-painting,  in  a  poor 
country,  where  could  be  none  of  the  fine  arts  connected  with 
wealth,  and  in  a  simple,  and  primitive  society,  not  yet  reached 
by  refinements  of  literature  ;  but  where  good  rowing  was 
necessary  for  the  support  of  life,  and  good  dancing,  one  of 
the  most  vivid  aids  to  domestic  pleasure.  You  would  then 
say  that  inability  to  row,  or  to  dance,  was  far  worse  than  ridic- 
ulous ;  that  it  marked  a  man  for  a  good-for-nothing  fellow, 
to  be  regarded  with  indignation,  as  well  as  contempt. 

Now,  remember,  the  inertia  or  zero  of  art  alwa}rs  involves 
this  kind  of  crime,  or  at  least,  pitiableness.  The  want  of  op- 
portunity of  learning  takes  away  the  moral  guilt  of  artless- 
ness  ;  but  the  want  of  opportunity  of  learning  such  arts  as 
are  becoming  in  given  circumstances,  may  indeed  be  no  crime 
in  an  individual,  but  cannot  be  alleged  in  its  defence  by  a 
nation.  National  ignorance  of  decent  art  is  always  criminal, 
unless  in  earliest  conditions  of  society  ;  and  then  it  is  brutal. 

17.  To  that  extent,  therefore,  culpably  or  otherwise,  a  kind 
of  moria,  or  folly,  is  always  indicated  by  the  zero  of  art-power. 
But  the  true  folly,  or  assuredly  culpable  folly,  is  in  the  exer- 
tion of  our  art-power  in  an  evil  direction.  And  here  we  need 
the  finesse  of  distinction,  which  I  am  afraid  will  be  provoking 
to  you.  Observe,  first,  and  simply,  that  the  possession  of  any 
art-power  at  all  implies  a  sophia  of  some  kind.  These  demons 
dancers,  of  whom  I  have  just  spoken,  were  earning  their 
bread  by  severe  and  honest  labour.  The  skill  they  possessed 
could  not  have  been  acquired  but  by  great  patience  and  resolute 
self-denial  ;  and  the  very  power  with  which  they  were  able  to 
express,  with  precision,  states  of  evil  passion,  indicated  that 
they  had  been  brought  up  in  a  society  which,  in  some  measure, 
knew  evil  from  good,  and  which  had,  therefore,  some  measure 
of  good  in  the  midst  of  it.    Nay,  the  farther  probability  is, 


312 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


that  if  you  inquired  into  the  life  of  these  men,  you  would  find 
that  this  demon  dance  had  been  invented  by  some  one  of 
them  with  a  great  imaginative  power,  and  was  performed  by 
them  not  at  all  in  preference  of  evil,  but  to  meet  the  demand 
of  a  public  whose  admiration  was  capable  of  being  excited 
only  by  violence  of  gesture,  and  vice  of  emotion. 

18,  In  all  cases,  therefore,  observe,  w7here  the  opportunity 
of  learning  has  been  given  ;  the  existence  of  the  art-power  in- 
dicates sophia,  and  its  absence  indicates  moria.  That  great 
fact  I  endeavoured  to  express  to  you,  two  years  since,  in  my 
third  introductory  Lecture.  In  the  present  course  I  have  to 
show  you  the  action  of  the  final,  or  higher  sophia  which  di- 
rects the  skill  of  art  to  the  best  purposes  ;  and  of  the  final,  or 
lower  moria  which  misdirects  them  to  the  worst.  And  the 
two  points  I  shall  endeavour  to  bring  before  you  throughout 
will  be  these  : — First,  that  the  object  of  University  teaching 
is  to  form  your  conceptions  ; — not  to  acquaint  you  with  arts, 
nor  sciences.  It  is  to  give  you  a  notion  of  what  is  meant  by 
smith's  work  ;  for  instance — but  not  to  make  you  blacksmiths. 
It  is  to  give  you  a  notion  of  what  is  meant  by  medicine,  but 
not  to  make  you  physicians.  The  proper  academy  for  black- 
smiths is  a  blacksmith's  forge  ;  the  proper  academy  for  phy- 
sicians is  an  hospital.  Here  you  are  to  be  taken  away  from 
the  forge,  out  of  the  hospital,  out  of  all  special  and  limited 
labour  and  thought,  into  the  '  Universitas '  of  labour  and 
thought,  that  you  may  in  peace,  in  leisure,  in  calm  of  disin- 
terested contemplation  be  enabled  to  conceive  rightly  the 
laws  of  nature,  and  the  destinies  of  Man. 

19.  Then  the  second  thing  I  have  to  show  you  is  that  over 
these  three  kingdoms  of  imagination,  art,  and  science,  there 
reigns  a  virtue  of  faculty,  which  from  all  time,  and  by  all 
great  people,  has  been  recognized  as  the  appointed  ruler  and 
guide  of  every  method  of  labour,  or  passion  of  soul ;  and  the 
most  glorious  recompense  of  the  toil,  and  crown  of  the  ambi- 
tion of  man.  "  She  is  more  precious  than  rubies,  and  all  the 
things  thou  canst  desire  are  not  to  be  compared  unto  her.  • 
Lay  fast  hold  upon  her  ;  let  her  not  go  ;  keep  her,  for  she  is 
thy  life." 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


313 


Are  not  these,  and  the  innumerable  words  like  to  these, 
which  you  remember  as  I  read  them,  strange  words  if  Aris- 
totle's statement  respecting  wisdom  be  true  ;  that  it  never 
contemplates  anything  that  can  make  men  happy,  "?}  fikv  yap 
o-o<fiLa  ouSeV  Oeuypet  i$  wv  tarai  evSatfjuiDV  av#pu)7ros." 

When  we  next  meet,  therefore,  I  purpose  to  examine  what 
it  is  which  wisdom,  by  preference,  contemplates  ;  what  choice 
she  makes  among  the  thoughts  and  sciences  open  to  her,  and 
to  what  purpose  she  employs  whatever  science  she  may  pos- 
sess. 

And  I  will  briefly  tell  you,  beforehand,  that  the  result  of 
the  inquiry  will  be,  that  instead  of  regarding  none  of  the 
sources  of  happiness,  she  regards  nothing  else  ;  that  she 
measures  all  worthiness  by  pure  felicity  ;  that  we  are  per- 
mitted to  conceive  her  as  the  cause  even  of  gladness  to  God— 
"I  was  daily  His  delight,  rejoicing  always  before  Him,"— and 
that  we  are  commanded  to  know  her  as  queen  of  the  popu- 
lous world,  "  rejoicing  in  the  habitable  parts  of  the  Earth,  and 
whose  delights  are  with  the  sons  of  Men." 


LECTURE  II. 

OF  WISDOM  AND  FOLLY  IN  SCIENCE. 

Wth  February,  1872. 

20.  In  my  last  lecture  I  asserted  the  positive-  and  negative 
powers  of  literature,  art,  and  science  ;  and  endeavoured  to 
show  you  some  of  the  relations  of  wise  art  to  foolish  art. 
To-day  we  are  to  examine  the  nature  of  these  positive  and 
negative  powers  in  science  ;  it  being  the  object  of  every  true 
school  to  teach  the  positive  or  constructive  power,  and  by  all 
means  to  discourage,  reprove,  and  extinguish  the  negative 
power. 

It  is  very  possible  that  you  may  not  often  have  thought  of, 
or  clearly  defined  to  yourselves,  this  destructive  or  deadly 
character  of  some  elements  of  science.    You  may  indeed  have 


314 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


recognized  with  Pope  that  a  little  knowledge  was  dangerous, 
and  you  have  therefore  striven  to  drink  deep  ;  you  may  have 
recognized  with  Bacon,  that  knowledge  might  partially  be- 
come venomous  ;  and  you  may  have  sought,  in  modesty  and 
sincerity,  antidote  to  the  inflating  poison.  But  that  there  is 
a  ruling  spirit  or  o-o^ta,  under  whose  authority  you  are  placed,, 
to  determine  for  you,  first  the  choice,  and  then  the  use  of  all 
knowledge  whatsoever  ;  and  that  if  you  do  not  appeal  to  that 
ruler,  much  more  if  you  disobey  her,  all  science  becomes  to 
you  ruinous  in  proportion  to  its  accumulation,  and  as  a  net 
to  your  soul,  fatal  in  proportion  to  the  fineness  of  its  thread, 
— this,  I  imagine,  few  of  you,  in  the  zeal  of  learning,  have 
suspected,  and  fewer  still  have  pressed  their  suspicion  so  far 
as  to  recognize  or  believe. 

21.  You  must  have  nearly  all  heard  of,  many  must  have 
seen,  the  singular  paintings  ;  some  also  may  have  read  the 
poems,  of  William  Blake.  The  impression  that  his  drawings 
once  made  is  fast,  and  justly,  fading  away,  though  they  are 
not  without  noble  merit.  But  his  poems  have  much  more 
than  merit  ;  they  are  written  with  absolute  sincerity,  with  in- 
finite tenderness,  and,  though  in  the  manner  of  them  diseased 
and  wild,  are  in  verity  the  words  of  a  great  and  wise  mind, 
disturbed,  but  not  deceived,  by  its  sickness  ;  nay,  partly  ex- 
alted by  it,  and  sometimes  giving  forth  in  fiery  aphorism  some 
of  the  most  precious  words  of  existing  literature.  One  of 
these  passages  I  will  ask  you  to  remember ;  it  will  often  be 
serviceable  to  you — 

1 1  Doth  the  Eagle  know  what  is  in  the  pit, 
Or  wilt  thou  go  ask  the  Mole  ?  " 

It  would  be  impossible  to  express  to  you  in  briefer  terms  the 
great  truth  that  there  is  a  different  kind  of  knowledge  good 
for  every  different  creature,  and  that  the  glory  of  the  higher 
creatures  is  in  ignorance  of  what  is  known  to  the  lower. 

22.  And,  above  all,  this  is  true  of  man  ;  for  every  other 
creature  is  compelled  by  its  instinct  to  learn  its  own  ap- 
pointed lesson,  and  must  centralize  its  perception  in  its  own 


TEE  EAGLE'S  .NEST. 


315 


being.  But  man  has  the  choice  of  stooping  in  science  be- 
neath himself,  and  striving  in  science  beyond  himself ;  and 
the  "  Know  thyself  "  is,  for  him,  not  a  law  to  which  he  must 
in  peace  submit ;  but  a  precept  which  of  all  others  is  the 
most  painful  to  understand,  and  the  most  difficult  to  fulfil. 
Most  painful  to  understand,  and  humiliating  ;  and  this  alike, 
whether  it  be  held  to  refer  to  the  knowledge  beneath  us,  or 
above.  For,  singularly  enough,  men  are  always  most  con- 
ceited of  the  meanest  science  : — 

"  Doth  tlie  Eagle  know  what  is  in  the  pit, 
Or  wilt  thou  go  ask  the  Mole  ?  " 

It  is  just  those  who  grope  with  the  mole  and  cling  with  the 
bat,  who  are  vainest  of  their  sight  and  of  their  wings. 

23.  "  Know  thyself;  "  but  can  it  indeed  be  sophia, — can  it 
be  the  noble  wisdom,  which  thus  speaks  to  science  ?  Is  not 
this  rather,  you  will  ask,  the  voice  of  the  lower  virtue  of  pru- 
dence, concerning  itself  with  right  conduct,  whether  for  the 
interests  of  this  world  or  of  the  future  ?  Does  not  sophia  re- 
gard all  that  is  above  and  greater  than  man  ;  and  by  so  much 
as  we  are  forbidden  to  bury  ourselves  in  the  mole's  earth- 
heap,  by  so  much  also,  are  we  not  urged  to  raise  ourselves 
towards  the  stars  ? 

Indeed,  it  would  at  first  seem  so  ;  nay,  in  the  passage  of 
the  Ethics,  which  I  proposed  to  you  to-day  for  question,  you 
are  distinctly  told  so.  There  are,  it  is  said,  many  different 
kinds  of  phronesis,  by  which  every  animal  recognizes  what  is 
for  its  own  good  :  and  man,  like  any  other  creature,  has  his 
own  separate  phronesis  telling  him  what  he  is  to  seek,  and  to 
do,  for  the  preservation  of  his  life  :  but  above  all  these  forms 
of  prudence,  the  Greek  sage  tells  you,  is  the  sophia  of  which 
the  objects  are  unchangeable  and  eternal,  the  methods  con- 
sistent, and  the  conclusions  universal :  and  this  wisdom  has 
no  regard  whatever  to  the  things  in  which  the  happiness  of 
man  consists,  but  acquaints  itself  only  with  the  things  that 
are  most  honourable  ;  so  that  "  we  call  Anaxagoras  and 
Thales,  and  such  others,  wise  indeed,  but  not  prudent,  in 


31G 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


that  they  know  nothing  of  what  is  for  their  own  advantage, 
but  know  surpassing  things,  marvellous  things,  difficult 
things,  and  divine  things." 

24.  Now  here  is  a  question  which  evidently  touches  m 
closely.  We  profess  at  this  day  to  be  an  especially  prudent 
nation  ; — to  regard  only  the  things  which  are  for  our  own  ad- 
vantage ;  to  leave  to  other  races  the  knowledge  of  surpassing 
things,  marvellous  things,  divine  things,  or  beautiful  things  ; 
and  in  our  exceeding  prudence  we  are  at  this  moment,  refus- 
ing the  purchase  of,  perhaps,  the  most  interesting  picture  by 
Eaphael  in  the  world,  and,  certainly,  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
works  ever  produced  by  the  art-wisdom  of  man,  for  five-and- 
twenty  thousand  pounds,  while  we  are  debating  whether  we 
shall  not  pay  three  hundred  millions  to  the  Americans,  as  a 
fine  for  selling  a  small  frigate  to  Captain  Semmes.  Let  me 
reduce  these  sums  from  thousands  of  pounds,  to  single 
pounds  ;  you  will  then  see  the  facts  more  clearly  ;  (there  is 
not  one  person  in  a  million  who  knows  what  a  "  million  " 
means  ;  and  that  is  one  reason  the  nation  is  always  ready  to 
let  its  ministers  spend  a  million  or  two  in  cannon,  if  they  can 
show  they  have  save  saved  twopence-halfpenny  in  tape). 
These  are  the  facts  then,  stating  pounds  for  thousands  of 
pounds  ;  you  are  offered  a  Nativity,  by  Eaphael,  for  five-and- 
twenty  pounds,  and  cannot  afford  it ;  but  it  is  thought  you 
may  be  bullied  into  paying  three  hundred  thousand  pounds, 
for  having  sold  a  ship  to  Captain  Semmes.  I  do  not  say  you 
will  pay  it.  Still  your  present  position  is  one  of  deprecation 
and  humility,  and  that  is  the  kind  of  result  which  you  bring 
about  by  acting  with  what  you  call  "  practical  common  sense," 
instead  of  Divine  wisdom. 

25.  Perhaps  you  think  I  am  losing  Aristotle's  notion  of 
common  sense,  by  confusing  it  with  our  vulgar  English  one  ; 
and  that  selling  ships  or  ammunition  to  people  whom  we  have 
not  courage  to  fight  either  for  or  against,  would  not  by  Aris- 
totle have  been  held  a  phronetic,  or  prudent  proceeding.  Be 
it  so  ;  let  us  be  certain  then,  if  we  can,  what  Aristotle  does 
mean.  Take  the  instance  I  gave  you  in  the  last  lecture,  of  the 
various  modes  of  feeling  in  which  a  master  of  literature,  of 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


317 


science,  and  of  art,  would  severally  regard  the  storm  round 
the  temples  of  Psestum. 

The  man  of  science,  we  said,  thought  of  the  origin  of  the 
electricity  ;  the  artist  of  its  light  in  the  clouds,  and  the 
scholar,  of  its  relation  to  the  power  of  Zeus  and  Poseidon. 
There  you  have  Episteme ;  Techne,  and  Nous ;  well,  now 
what  does  Phronesis  do  ? 

Phronesis  puts  up  his  umbrella,  and  goes  home  as  fast  as 
he  can.  Aristotle's  Phronesis  at  least  does  ;  having  no  regard 
for  marvellous  things.  But  are  you  sure  that  Aristotle's 
Phronesis  is  indeed  the  right  sort  of  Phronesis  ?  May  there 
not  be  a  common  sense,  as  well  as  an  art,  and  a  science,  under 
the  command  of  sophia  ?  Let  us  take  an  instance  of  a  more 
subtle  kind. 

26.  Suppose  that  two  young  ladies,  (I  assume  in  my  present 
lectures,  that  none  are  present,  and  that  we  may  say  among 
ourselves  what  we  like  ;  and  we  do  like,  do  we  not,  to  suppose 
that  young  ladies  excel  us  only  in  prudence,  and  not  in  wis- 
dom ?)  let  us  suppose  that  two  young  ladies  go  to  the  observa- 
tory on  a  winter  night,  and  that  one  is  so  anxious  to  look  at 
the  stars  that  she  does  not  care  whether  she  gives  herself  cold, 
or  not ;  but  the  other  is  prudent,  and  takes  care,  and  looks  at 
the  stars  only  as  long  as  she  can  without  catching  cold.  In 
Aristotle's  mind  the  first  young  lady  would  properly  deserve 
the  name  of  Sophia  and  the  other  that  of  Prudence.  But  in 
order  to  judge  them  fairly,  we  must  assume  that  they  are  act- 
ing under  exactly  the  same  conditions.  Assume  that  they 
both  equally  desire  to  look  at  the  stars  ;  then,  the  fact  that 
one  of  them  stops  when  it  would  be  dangerous  to  look  longer, 
does  not  show  that  she  is  less  wise, — less  interested,  that  is  to 
say,  in  surpassing  and  marvellous  things  ; — but  it  shows  that 
she  has  more  self-command,  and  is  able  therefore  to  remember 
what  the  other  does  not  think  of.  She  is  equally  wise,  and 
more  sensible.  But  suppose  that  the  two  girls  are  originally 
different  in  disposition  ;  and  that  the  one,  having  much  more 
imagination  than  the  other,  is  more  interested  in  these  sur- 
passing and  marvellous  things  ;  so  that  the  self-command, 
which  is  enough  to  stop  the  other,  who  cares  little  for  the 


318 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


stars,  is  not  enough  to  stop  her,  who  cares  much  for  them 
you  would  say,  then,  that,  both  the  girls  being  equally  sensi- 
ble, the  one  that  caught  cold  was  the  wisest. 

27.  Let  us  make  a  farther  supposition.  Returning  to  our 
first  condition,  that  both  the  girls  desire  equally  to  look  at  the 
stars  ;  let  us  put  it  now  that  both  have  equal  self-command, 
and  would  therefore,  supposing  no  other  motives  were  in  their 
minds,  together  go  on  star-gazing,  or  together  stop  star-gaz- 
ing ;  but  that  one  of  them  has  greater  consideration  for  her 
friends  than  the  other,  and  though  she  would  not  mind  catch- 
ing cold  for  her  own  part,  would  mind  it  much  for  fear  of  giv- 
ing her  mother  trouble.  She  will  leave  the  stars  first,  there- 
fore ;  but  should  we  be  right  now  in  saying  that  she  was  only 
more  sensible  than  her  companion,  and  not  more  wise  ?  This 
respect  for  the  feelings  of  others,  this  understanding  of  her 
duty  towards  others,  is  a  much  higher  thing  than  the  love  of 
stars.  It  is  an  imaginative  knowledge,  not  of  balls  of  fire  or 
differences  of  space  ;  but  of  the  feelings  of  living  creatures, 
and  of  the  forces  of  duty  by  which  they  justly  move.  This  is 
a  knowledge,  or  perception,  therefore,  of  a  thing  more  sur- 
passing and  marvellous  than  the  stars  themselves,  and  the 
grasp  of  it  is  reached  by  a  higher  sophia. 

28.  Will  you  have  patience  with  me  for  one  supposition 
more  ?  We  may  assume  the  attraction  of  the  spectacle  of  the 
heavens  to  be  equal  in  degree,  and  yet,  in  the  minds  of  the 
two  girls,  it  may  be  entirely  different  in  kind.  Supposing  the 
one  versed  somewhat  in  abstract  Science,  and  more  or  less  ac- 
quainted with  the  laws  by  which  what  she  now  sees  may  be 
explained ;  she  will  probably  take  interest  chiefly  in  questions 
of  distance  and  magnitude,  in  varieties  of  orbit,  and  propor- 
tions of  light.  Supposing  the  other  not  versed  in  any  science 
of  this  kind,  but  acquainted  with  the  traditions  attached  by 
the  religion  of  dead  nations  to  the  figures  they  discerned 
in  the  sky  :  she  will  care  little  for  arithmetical  or  geometrical 
matters,  but  will  probably  receive  a  much  deeper  emotion, 
from  witnessing  in  clearness  what  has  been  the  amazement  of 
so  many  eyes  long  closed  ;  and  recognizing  the  same  lights, 
through  the  same  darkness,  with  innocent  shepherds  and  hus- 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


319 


bandmen,  who  knew  only  tlie  risings  and  settings  of  the  im- 
measurable vault,  as  its  lights  shone  on  their  own  fields  or 
mountains  ;  yet  saw  true  miracle  in  them,  thankful  that  none 
but  the  Supreme  Ruler  could  bind  the  sweet  influences  of 
Pleiades,  or  loose  the  bands  of  Orion.  I  need  not  surely  tell 
you,  that  in  this  exertion  of  the  intellect  and  the  heart,  there 
would  be  a  far  nobler  sophia  than  any  concerned  with  the  an- 
alysis of  matter,  or  the  measurement  of  space. 

29.  I  will  not  weary  you  longer  with  questions,  but  simply 
tell  you,  what  you  will  find  ultimately  to  be  true,  that  sophia 
is  the  form  of  thought,  which  makes  common  sense  unselfish, 
— knowledge  unselfish, — art  unselfish, — and  wit  and  imagina- 
tion unselfish.  Of  all  these,  by  themselves,  it  is  true  that  they 
are  partly  venomous ;  that,  as  knowledge  puffeth  up,  so  does 
prudence — so  does  art — so  does  wit  ;  but,  added  to  ail  these, 
wisdom,  or  (you  may  read  it  as  an  equivalent  word),  added  to 
all  these — charity,  edifieth. 

30.  Note  the  word  ;  builds  forward,  or  builds  up,  and  builds 
securely  because  on  modest  and  measured  foundation,  wide, 
though  low,  and  in  the  natural  and  living  rock. 

Sophia  is  the  faculty  which  recognizes  in  all  things  their 
bearing  upon  life,  in  the  entire  sum  of  life  that  we  know,  bestial 
and  human;  but  which,  understanding  the  appointed  objects  of 
that  life,  concentrates  its  interest  and  its  power  on  Humanity, 
as  opposed  on  the  one  side  to  the  Animalism  which  it  must 
rule,  and  distinguished  on  the  other  side  from  the  Divinity 
which  rules  it,  and  which  it  cannot  imagine. 

It  is  as  little  the  part  of  a  wise  man  to  reflect  much  on  the 
nature  of  beings  above  him,  as  of  beings  beneath  him.  It  is 
immodest  to  suppose  that  he  can  conceive  the  one,  and  de- 
grading to  suppose  that  he  should  be  busied  with  the  other. 
To  recognize  his  everlasting  inferiority,  and  his  everlasting 
greatness  ;  to  know  himself,  and  his  place  ;  to  be  content  to 
submit  to  God  without  understanding  Him  ;  and  to  rule  the 
lower  creation  with  sympathy  and  kindness,  yet  neither  shar- 
ing the  passion  of  the  wild  beast,  nor  imitating  the  science  of 
the  Insect  ; — this  you  will  find  is  to  be  modest  towards  God, 
gentle  to  His  creatures,  and  wise  for  himself. 


320 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


31.  I  think  you  will  now  be  able  to  fasten  in  your  minds, 
first  the  idea  of  unselfishness,  and  secondly,  that  of  modesty, 
as  component  elements  of  sophist  ;  and  having  obtained  thus 
much,  we  will  at  once  make  use  of  our  gain,  by  rendering 
more  clear  one  or  two  points  respecting  its  action  on  art,  that 
we  may  then  see  more  surely  its  obscurer  function  in  science. 

It  is  absolutely  unselfish,  wre  say,  not  in  the  sense  of  being 
without  desire,  or  effort  to  gratify  that  desire  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  longs  intensely  to  see,  or  know  the  things  it  is  rightly 
interested  in.  But  it  is  not  interested  specially  in  itself.  In 
the  degree  of  his  wisdom,  an  artist  is  unconcerned  about  his 
work  as  his  own  ; — concerned  about  it  only  in  the  degree  in 
which  he  would  be,  if  it  were  another  man's — recognizing  its 
precise  value,  or  no  value,  from  that  outer  stand-point.  I  do 
not  think,  unless  you  examine  your  minds  very  attentively, 
that  you  can  have  any  conception  of  the  difficulty  of  doing 
this.  Absolutely  to  do  it  is  impossible,  for  we  are  all  in- 
tended by  nature  to  be  a  little  unwise,  and  to  derive  more 
pleasure,  therefore,  from  our  own  success  than  that  of  others. 
But  the  intense  degree  of  the  difference  is  usually  unmeasured 
by  us.  In  preparing  the  drawings  for  you  to  use  as  copies  in 
these  schools,  my  assistant  and  I  are  often  sitting  beside  each 
other;  and  he  is  at  work,  usually,  on  the  more  important 
drawing  of  the  two.  I  so  far  recognize  that  greater  import- 
ance, when  it  exists,  that  if  I  had  the  power  of  determining 
which  of  us  should  succeed,  and  wrhich  fail,  I  should  be  wise 
enough  to  choose  his  success  rather  than  my  own.  But  the 
actual  effect  on  my  own  mind,  and  comfort,  is  very  different 
in  the  two  cases.  If  he  fails,  I  am  sorry,  but  not  mortified  ; — 
on  the  contrary,  perhaps  a  little  pleased.  I  tell  him,  indul- 
gently, '  he  will  do  better  another  time/  and  go  down  with  great 
contentment  to  my  lunch.  But,  if  /  fail,  though  I  would 
rather,  for  the  sake  of  the  two  drawings,  have  had  it  so,  the 
effect  on  my  temper  is  very  different.  I  say,  philosophically, 
that  it  was  better  so — but  I  can't  eat  any  lunch. 

32.  Now,  just  imagine  what  this  inherently  selfish  passion 
— unconquerable  as  you  will  find  it  by  the  most  deliberate  and 
maintained  efforts — fancy  what  it  becomes,  when,  instead  of 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


321 


striving  to  subdue,  we  take  every  means  in  our  power  to  in- 
crease and  encourage  it  ;  and  when  all  the  circumstances 
around  us  concur  in  the  deadly  cultivation.  In  all  base 
schools  of  Art,  the  craftsman  is  dependent  for  his  bread  on 
originality  ;  that  is  to  say,  on  finding  in  himself  some  frag- 
ment of  isolated  faculty,  by  which  his  work  may  be  recognized 
as  distinct  from  that  of  other  men.  We  are  ready  enough  to 
take  delight  in  our  little  doings,  without  any  such  stimulus ; 
— what  must  be  the  effect  of  the  popular  applause  which  con- 
tinually suggests  that  the  little  thing  we  can  separately  do  is 
as  excellent  as  it  is  singular  !  and  what  the  effect  of  the  bribe, 
held  out  to  us  through  the  whole  of  life,  to  produce, — it  be- 
ing also  at  our  peril  not  to  produce — something  different  from 
the  work  of  our  neighbours  ?  In  all  great  schools  of  art  these 
conditions  are  exactly  reversed.  An  artist  is  praised  in  these, 
not  for  what  is  different  in  him  from  others,  nor  for  solitary 
performance  Of  singular  work ;  but  onty  for  doing  most 
strongly  what  all  are  endeavouring  ;  and  for  contributing,  in 
the  measure  of  his  strength,  to  some  great  achievement,  to  be 
completed  by  the  unity  of  multitudes,  and  the  sequence  of 
ages. 

33.  And  now,  passing  from  art  to  science,  the  unselfishness 
of  sophia  is  shown  by  the  value  it  therein  attaches  to  every 
part  of  knowledge,  new  or  old,  in  proportion  to  its  real  utility 
to  mankind,  or  largeness  of  range  in  creation.  The  selfishness 
which  renders  sophia  impossible,  and  enlarges  the  elastic  and 
vaporous  kingdom  of  folly,  is  shown  by  our  caring  for  knowl- 
edge only  so  far  as  we  have  been  concerned  in  its  discovery, 
or  are  ourselves  skilled  and  admired  in  its  communication. 
If  there  is  an  art  which  "puffeth  up,"  even  when  we  are  sur- 
round by  magnificence  of  achievement  of  past  ages,  confess- 
edly not  by  us  to  be  rivalled,  how  much  more  must  there  be 
a  science  which  puffeth  up,  when,  by  the  very  condition  of 
science,  it  must  be  an  advance  on  the  attainments  of  former 
time,  and  however  slight,  or  however  slow,  is  still  always  as 
the  leaf  of  a  pleasant  spring  compared  to  the  dried  branches 
of  years  gone  by  ?  And,  for  the  double  calamity  of  the  age 
in  which  we  live,  it  has  chanced  that  the  demand  of  the  vulgar 


322  THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 

and  the  dull  for  originality  in  Art,  is  associated  with  the  de- 
mand of  a  sensual  economy  for  originality  in  science  ;  and  the 
praise  which  is  too  readily  given  always  to  discoveries  that  are 
new,  is  enhanced  by  the  reward  which  rapidity  of  communi- 
cation now  ensures  to  discoveries  that  are  profitable.  What 
marvel  if  future  time  shall  reproach  us  with  having  destroyed 
t  lie  labours,  and  betrayed  the  knowledge  of  the  greatest  na- 
tions .and  the  wisest  men,  while  we  amused  ourselves  with  fan- 
tasy in  art,  and  with  theory  in  science  :  happy,  if  the  one  was 
idle  without  being  vicious,  and  the  other  mistaken  without 
being  mischievous.  Nay,  truth,  and  success,  are  often  to  us 
more  deadly  than  error.  Perhaps  no  progress  more  triumphant 
has  been  made  in  any  science  than  that  of  Chemistry  ;  but 
the  practical  fact  which  will  remain  for  the  contemplation  of 
the  future,  is  that  we  have  lost  the  art  of  painting  on  glass,  and 
invented  gun-cotton  and  nitro-glycerine.  "  Can  you  imagine," 
the  future  will  say,  "  those  English  fools  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  who  went  about  putting  up  memorials  of  themselves 
in  glass  which  they  could  not  paint,  and  blowing  their  women 
and  children  to  pieces  with  cartridges  they  would  not  fight 
with  ?  " 

34.  You  may  well  think,  gentlemen,  that  I  am  unjust  and 
prejudiced  in  such  sayings  ; — you  may  imagine  that  when  all 
our  mischievous  inventions  have  done  their  worst,  and  the 
wars  they  provoked  by  cowardice  have  been  forgotten  in  dis- 
honour, our  great  investigators  will  be  remembered,  as  men 
who  laid  first  the  foundations  of  fruitful  knowledge,  and  vin- 
dicated the  majesty  of  inviolable  law.  No,  gentlemen  ;  it 
will  not  be  so.  In  a  little  while,  the  discoveries  of  which  we 
are  now  so  proud  will  be  familiar  to  all.  The  marvel  of  the 
future  will  not  be  that  wTe  should  have  discerned  them,  but 
that  our  predecessors  were  blind  to  them.  We  may  be  en- 
vied, but  shall  not  be  praised,  for  having  been  allowed  first  to 
perceive  and  proclaim  what  could  be  concealed  no  longer. 
But  the  misuse  we  made  of  our  discoveries  will  be  remem- 
bered against  us,  in  eternal  history  ;  our  ingenuity  in  the  vin- 
dication, or  the  denial,  of  species,  will  be  disregarded  in  the 
face  of  the  fact  that  we  destroyed,  in  civilized  Europe,  every 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


323 


rare  bird  and  secluded  flower ;  our  chemistry  of  agriculture 
will  be  taunted  with  the  memories  of  irremediable  famine  ; 
and  our  mechanical  contrivance  will  only  make  the  age  of  the 
mitrailleuse  more  abhorred  than  that  of  the  guillotine. 

35.  Yes,  believe  me,  in  spite  of  our  political  liberality,  and 
poetical  philanthropy  ;  in  spite  of  our  almshouses,  hospitals, 
and  Sunday-schools  ;  in  spite  of  our  missionary  endeavours  to 
preach  abroad  what  we  cannot  get  believed  at  home  ;  and  in 
spite  of  our  wars  against  slavery,  indemnified  by  the  presenta- 
tion of  ingenious  bills, — we  shall  be  remembered  in  history 
as  the  most  cruel,  and  therefore  the  most  unwise,  generation 
of  men  that  ever  yet  troubled  the  earth : — the  most  cruel  in 
proportion  to  their  sensibility, — the  most  unwise  in  propor- 
tion to  their  science.  No  people,  understanding  pain,  ever 
inflicted  so  much  :  no  people,  understanding  facts,  ever  acted 
on  them  so  little.  You  execrate  the  name  of  Eccelin  of  Padua, 
because  he  slew  two  thousand  innocent  persons  to  maintain 
his  power ;  and  Dante  cries  out  against  Pisa  that  she  should 
be  sunk  in  the  sea,  because,  in  revenge  for  treachery,  she  put 
to  death,  by  the  slow  pangs  of  starvation,  not  the  traitor  only, 
but  his  children.  But  we  men  of  London,  wre  of  the  modern 
Pisa,  slew,  a  little  while  since,  five  hundred  thousand  men  in- 
stead of  two  thousand — (I  speak  in  official  terms,  and  know 
my  numbers) — these  we  slew,  all  guiltless ;  and  these  we 
slew,  not  for  defence,  nor  for  revenge,  but  most  literally  in 
cold  blood  ;  and  these  we  slew,  fathers  and  children  together, 
by  slow  starvation — simply  because,  while  we  contentedly 
kill  our  own  children  in  competition  for  places  in  the  Civil 
Service,  we  never  ask,  when  once  they  have  got  the  places, 
whether  the  Civil  Service  is  done. 

36.  That  was  our  missionary  work  in  Orissa,  some  three  or 
four  years  ago ;— our  Christian  miracle  of  the  five  loaves, 
assisted  as  we  are  in  its  performance,  by  steam-engines  for 
the  threshing  of  the  corn,  and  by  railroads  for  carrying  it, 
and  by  proposals  from  English  noblemen  to  cut  down  all  the 
trees  in  England,  for  better  growing  it.  That,  I  repeat,  is 
what  we  did,  a  year  or  two  ago  ;  what  are  we  doing  now  ? 
Haye  any  of  you  chanced  to  hear  of  the  famine  in  Persia  ? 


324 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


Here,  with  due  science,  we  arrange  the  roses  in  our  botanie 
garden,  thoughtless  of  the  country  of  the  rose.  "With  due 
art  of  horticulture,  we  prepare  for  our  harvest  of  peaches  * 
it  might  perhaps  seriously  alarm  us  to  hear,  next  autumn,  of 
a  coming  famine  of  peaches.  But  the  famine  of  all  things,  in 
the  country  of  the  peach — do  you  know  of  it,  care  for  it : — 
quaint  famine  that  it  is,  in  the  fruitfullest,  fairest,  richest  of 
the  estates  of  earth ;  from  which  the  Magi  brought  their 
treasures  to  the  feet  of  Christ  ? 

How  much  of  your  time,  scientific  faculty,  popular  litera- 
ture, have  been  given,  since  this  year  began,  to  ascertain  what 
England  can  do  for  the  great  countries  under  her  command, 
or  for  the  nations  that  look  to  her  for  help  :  and  how  much 
to  discuss  the  chances  of  a  single  impostor's  getting  a  few 
thousand  a  year  ? 

Gentlemen,  if  your  literature,  popular  and  other  ;  or  your 
art,  popular  and  other ;  or  your  science,  popular  and  other, 
is  to  be  eagle-eyed,  remember  that  question  I  to-day  solemnly 
put  to  you — will  you  hawk  at  game  or  carrion  ?  Shall  it  be 
only  said  of  the  thoughts  of  the  heart  of  England — "  "Where- 
soever the  carcase  is,  thither  shall  the  eagles  be  gathered  to- 
gether?" 


LECTURE  HL 

THE  RELATION  OF  WISE  ART  TO  WISE  SCIENCE. 

"  The  morrow  after  St.  Valentine's^  1872. 

37.  Our  task  to-day  is  to  examine  the  relation  between  art 
and  science,  each  governed  by  sophia,  and  becoming  capable, 
therefore,  of  consistent  and  definable  relation  to  each  other. 
Between  foolish  art  and  foolish  science,  there  may  indeed  be 
all  manner  of  reciprocal  mischievous  influence  ;  but  between 
wise  art  and  wise  science  there  is  essential  relation,  for  each 
other's  help  and  dignity. 

You  observe,  I  hope,  that  I  always  use  the  term  '  science, 
merely  as  the  equivalent  of  *  knowledge/   I  take  the  Latin 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST, 


325 


word,  rather  than  the  English,  to  mark  that  it  is  knowledge 
of  constant  things,  not  merely  of  passing  events  :  but  you  had 
better  lose  even  that  distinction,  and  receive  the  word  "  sci- 
entia"  as  merely  the  equivalent  of  our  English  "knowledge," 
than  fall  into  the  opposite  error  of  supposing  that  science 
means  systematization  or  discovery.  It  is  not  the  arrange- 
ment of  new  systems,  nor  the  discovery  of  new  facts,  which 
constitute  a  man  of  science  ;  but  the  submission  to  an  eternal 
system  ;  and  the  proper  grasp  of  facts  already  known. 

38.  And,  at  first,  to-day,  I  use  the  word  "  art "  only  of  that 
in  which  it  is  my  special  office  to  instruct  you  ;  graphic  imi- 
tation ;  or,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  Fine  art.  Of  course, 
the  arts  of  construction, — building,  carpentering,  and  the 
like,  are  directly  dependent  on  many  sciences,  but  in  a  man- 
ner which  needs  no  discussion,  so  that  we  may  put  that  part 
of  the  business  out  of  our  way.  I  mean  by  art,  to-day,  only 
imitative  art  ;  and  by  science,  to-day,  not  the  knowledge  of 
general  laws,  but  of  existent  facts.  I  do  not  mean  by  science, 
for  instance,  the  knowledge  that  triangles  with  equal  bases 
and  between  parallels,  are  equal,  but  the  knowledge  that  the 
stars  in  Cassiopeia  are  in  the  form  of  a  W. 

Now,  accepting  the  terms  '  science  '  and  *  art '  under  these 
limitations,  wise  art  is  only  the  reflex  or  shadow  of  wise 
science.  Whatever  it  is  really  desirable  and  honourable  to 
know,  it  is  also  desirable  and  honourable  to  know  as  com- 
pletely and  as  long  as  possible  ;  therefore,  to  present,  or  re- 
present, in  the  most  constant  manner ;  and  to  bring  again 
and  again,  not  only  within  the  thoughts,  but  before  the  eyes ; 
describing  it,  not  with  vague  words,  but  distinct  lines,  and 
true  colours,  so  as  to  approach  always  as  nearly  as  may  be  to 
the  likeness  of  the  thing  itself. 

39.  Can  anything  be  more  simple,  more  evidently  or  indis» 
putably  natural  and  right,  than  such  connection  of  the  two 
powers  ?  That  you  should  desire  to  know  what  you  ought ; 
what  is  worthy  of  your  nature,  and  helpful  to  your  life :  to 
know  that ; — nothing  less, — nothing  more  ;  and  to  keep  rec- 
ord and  definition  of  such  knowledge  near  you,  in  the  most 
vivid  and  explanatory  form  ? 


326 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


Nothing,  surely,  can  be  more  simple  than  this  ;  yet  the 
sum  of  art  judgment  and  of  art  practice  is  in  this.  You  are 
to  recognize,  or  know,  beautiful  and  noble  things — notable, 
notabilia,  or  nobilia  ;  and  then  you  are  to  give  the  best  possi- 
ble account  of  them  you  can,  either  for  the  sake  of  others,  or 
for  the  sake  of  your  own  forgetful  or  apathetic  self,  in  the 
future. 

Now  as  I  gave  you  and  asked  you  to  remember  without 
failing,  an  aphorism  which  embraced  the  law  of  wise  knowl- 
edge,  so,  to-day,  I  will  ask  you  to  remember,  without  fail, 
one,  which  absolutely  defines  the  relation  of  wise  art  to  it.  I 
have,  already,  quoted  our  to-day's  aphorism  to  you,  at  the  end 
of  my  4th  lecture  on  sculpture.  Read  the  few  sentences  at 
the  end  of  that  lecture  now,  down  to 

"the  best,  in  this  kind,  aee  but  shadows." 

That  is  Shakspeare's  judgment  of  his  own  art.  And  by 
strange  coincidence,  he  has  put  the  words  into  the  mouth  of 
the  hero  whose  shadow  or  semblance  in  marble,  is  admittedly 
the  most  ideal  and  heroic  we  possess,  of  man  ;  yet,  I  need 
not  ask  you,  whether  of  the  two,  if  it  were  granted  you  to 
see  the  statue  by  Phidias,  or  the  hero  Theseus  himself,  you 
would  choose  rather  to  see  the  carved  stone,  or  the  living 
King.  Do  you  recollect  how  Shakspeare's  Theseus  concludes 
his  sentence,  spoken  of  the  poor  tradesmen's  kindly  offered 
art,  in  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  ? 

"  The  best  in  this  kind  are  but  shadows  ;  and  the  worst  are 
no  worse,  if  imagination  amend  them." 

It  will  not  burden  your  memories  painfully,  I  hope,  though 
it  may  not  advance  you  materially  in  the  class  list,  if  you  will, 
learn  this  entire  sentence  by  heart,  being,  as  it  is,  a  faultless 
and  complete  epitome  of  the  laws  of  mimetic  art. 

40.  "But  Shadows  !  "  Make  them  as  beautiful  as  you  can  ; 
use  them  only  to  enable  you  to  remember  and  love  what  they 
are  cast  by.  If  ever  you  prefer  the  skill  of  them  to  the  sim- 
plicity of  the  truth,  or  the  pleasure  of  them  to  the  power  of 
the  truth,  you  have  fallen  into  that  vice  of  folly,  (whether  you 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


327 


call  her  kolklol  or  /moypia,)  which  concludes  the  subtle  description 
of  her  given  by  Prodicus,  that  she  might  be  seen  continually 
cis  tyjv  eavrrjs  vklolv  aTTofi\i-iT€iv — to  look  with  love,  and  exclusive 
wonder,  at  her  own  shadow. 

41.  There  in  nothing  that  I  tell  you  with  more  eager  desire 
that  you  should  believe — nothing  with  wider  ground  in  my 
experience  for  requiring  you  to  believe,  than  this,  that  you 
never  will  love  art  well,  till  you  love  what  she  mirrors  better. 

It  is  the  widest,  as  the  c  clearest  experience  I  have  to  give 
you ;  for  the  beginning  of  all  my  own  right  art  work  in  life, 
(and  it  may  not  be  unprofitable  that  I  should  tell  you  this), 
depended,  not  on  my  love  of  art,  but  of  mountains  and  sea. 
All  boys  with  any  good  in  them  are  fond  of  boats,  and  of 
course  I  liked  the  mountains  best  when  they  had  lakes  at  the 
bottom  ;  and  I  used  to  walk  always  in  the  middle  of  the  loos- 
est gravel  I  could  find  in  the  roads  of  the  midland  counties, 
that  I  might  hear,  as  I  trod  on  it,  something  like  the  sound 
of  the  pebbles  on  seabeach.  No  chance  occurred  for  some 
time  to  develope  what  gift  of  drawing  I  had  ;  but  I  would 
pass  entire  days  in  rambling  on  the  Cumberland  hill-sides,  or 
staring  at  the  lines  of  surf  on  a  low  sand ;  and  when  I  was 
taken  annually  to  the  Water-colour  Exhibition,  I  used  to  get 
hold  of  a  catalogue  before-hand,  mark  all  the  Eobsons,  which 
I  knew  would  be  of  purple  mountains,  and  all  the  Copley 
Fieldings,  which  I  knew  would  be  of  lakes  or  sea  ;  and  then 
go  deliberately  round  the  room  to  these,  for  the  sake,  observe, 
not  of  the  pictures,  in  any  wise,  but  only  of  the  things  painted. 

And  through  the  whole  of  following  life,  whatever  power  of 
judgment  I  have  obtained,  in  art,  which  I  am  now  confident 
and  happy  in  using,  or  communicating,  has  depended  on  my 
steady  habit  of  always  looking  for  the  subject  principally,  and 
for  the  art,  only  as  the  means  of  expressing  it. 

42.  At  first,  as  in  youth  one  is  almost  sure  to  be,  I  was  led 
too  far  by  my  certainty  of  the  lightness  of  this  principle  :  and 
provoked  into  its  exclusive  assertion  by  the  pertinacity  with 
which  other  writers  denied  it :  so  that,  in  the  first  volume  of 
Modern  Painters,  several  passages  occurred  setting  the  subject 
or  motive  of  the  picture  so  much  above  the  mode  of  its  ex- 


328 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


pression,  tliat  some  of  my  more  feebly  gifted  disciples  sup- 
posed they  were  fulfilling  my  wishes  by  choosing  exactly  the 
subjects  for  painting  which  they  were  least  able  to  paint.  But 
the  principle  itself,  I  maintain,  now  in  advanced  life,  with 
more  reverence  and  firmness  than  in  earliest  youth :  and 
though  I  believe  that  among  the  teachers  who  have  opposed 
its  assertion,  there  are  few  who  enjoy  the  mere  artifices  of 
composition  or  dexterities  of  handling  so  much  as  I,  the  time 
which  I  have  given  to  the  investigation  of  these  has  only 
farther  assured  me  that  the  pictures  were  noblest  which  com- 
pelled me  to  forget  them. 

43.  Now,  therefore,  you  see  that  on  this  simple  theory,  you 
have  only  to  ask  what  will  be  the  subjects  of  wise  science  ; 
these  also,  will  be,  so  far  as  they  can  be  imitatively  or  sug- 
gestively represented,  the  subjects  of  wise  art :  and  the  wis- 
dom of  both  the  science  and  art  will  be  recognized  by  their 
being  lofty  in  their  scope,  but  simple  in  their  language  ;  clear 
in  fancy,  but  clearer  in  interpretation  ;  severe  in  discernment, 
but  delightful  in  display. 

44.  For  example's  sake,  since  we  have  just  been  listening 
to  Shakspeare  as  a  teacher  of  science  and  art,  we  will  now 
examine  him  as  a  subject  of  science  and  art. 

Suppose  we  have  the  existence  and  essence  of  Shakspeare 
to  investigate,  and  give  permanent  account  of ;  we  shall  see 
that,  as  the  scope  and  bearing  of  the  science  become  nobler, 
art  becomes  more  helpful  to  it  ;  and  at  last,  in  its  highest 
range,  even  necessary  to  it ;  but  still  only  as  its  minister. 

We  examine  Shakspeare,  first,  with  the  science  of  chemis- 
try, which  informs  us  that  Shakspeare  consists  of  about  sev- 
enty-five parts  in  the  hundred  of  water,  some  twelve  or  fifteen 
of  nitrogen,  and  the  rest,  lime,  phosphorus,  and  essential 
earthy  salts. 

We  next  examine  him  by  the  science  of  anatomy,  which 
tells  us  (with  other  such  matters,)  that  Shakspeare  has  seven 
cervical,  twelve  dorsal,  and  five  lumbar  vertebrae  ;  that  his  fore- 
arm has  a  wide  sphere  of  rotation  ;  and  that  he  differs  from 
other  animals  of  the  ape  species  by  being  more  delicately  pre- 
hensile in  the  fingers,  and  less  perfectly  prehensile  in  the  toes. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


329 


We  next  approach  Shakspeare  with  the  science  of  natural 
history,  which  tells  us  the  colour  of  his  eyes  and  hair,  his 
habits  of  life,  his  temper,  and  his  predilection  for  poaching. 

There  ends,  as  far  as  this  subject  is  concerned,  our  possible 
science  of  substantial  things.  Then  we  take  up  our  science 
of  ideal  things  :  first  of  passion,  then  of  imagination  ;  and  we 
are  told  by  these  that  Shakspeare  m  capable  of  certain  emo- 
tions, and  of  mastering  or  commanding  them  in  certain  modes. 
Finally,  we  take  up  our  science  of  theology,  and  ascertain  that 
he  is  in  relation,  or  in  supposed  relation,  with  such  and  such 
a  Being,  greater  than  himself. 

45.  Now,  in  all  these  successive  stages  of  scientific  descrip- 
tion, we  find  art  become  powerful  as  an  aid  or  record,  in  pro- 
portion to  the  importance  of  the  inquiry.  For  chemistry,  she 
can  do  scarcely  anything  :  merely  keep  note  of  a  colour,  or  of 
the  form  of  a  crystal.  For  anatomy,  she  can  do  somewhat 
more  ;  and  for  natural  history,  almost  all  things  :  while  in  re- 
cording passion,  and  affectionate  intellect,  she  walks  hand  in 
hand  with  the  highest  science  ;  and  to  theology,  can  give 
nobler  aid  even  than  the  verbal  expression  of  literature. 

46.  And  in  considering  this  power  of  hers,  remember  that 
the  theology  of  art  has  only  of  late  been  thought  deserving  of 
attention  :  Lord  Lindsay,  some  thirty  years  ago,  was  the  first 
to  recognize  its  importance  ;  and  when  I  entered  upon  the 
study  of  the  schools  of  Tuscany  in  1845,  his  "  Christian  myth- 
ology "  was  the  only  guide  I  could  trust.  Even  as  late  as 
1860, 1  had  to  vindicate  the  true  position,  in  Christian  science, 
of  Luini,  the  despised  pupil  of  Leonardo.  But  only  assum- 
ing, what  with  general  assent  I  might  assume,  that  Raphael's 
dispute  of  the  Sacrament — (or  by  its  less  frequently  given, 
but  true  name — Raphael's  Theologia,)  is  the  most  perfect  ef- 
fort yet  made  by  art  to  illustrate  divine  science,  I  am  prepared 
hereafter  to  show  you  that  the  most  finished  efforts  of  theo- 
logic  literature,  as  compared  with  that  piece  of  pictorial  inter- 
pretation, have  expressed  less  fully  the  condition  of  wise  re- 
ligious thought ;  and  have  been  warped  more  dangerously 
into  unwise  religious  speculation. 

4?.  Upon  these  higher  fields  of  inquiry  we  are  not  yet  to 


330 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


enter.  I  shall  endeavour  for  some  time  only  to  show  you  the 
function  of  modest  art,  as  the  handmaid  of  natural  science ; 
and  the  exponent,  first  of  the  beauty  of  the  creatures  subject 
to  your  own  human  life  ;  and  then  of  the  history  of  that  life 
in  past  time  ;  of  which  one  chief  source  of  illustration  is  to 
be  found  in  the  most  brilliant,  and  in  its  power  on  character, 
hitherto  the  most  practically  effective  of  the  arts — Heraldry. 

In  natural  history,  I  at  first  intended  to  begin  with  the 
lower  types  of  life  ;  but  as  the  enlarged  schools  now  give  me 
the  means  of  extending  the  use  of  our  examples,  wre  will  at 
once,  for  the  sake  of  more  general  service,  take  up  ornithol- 
ogy, of  the  uses  of  which,  in  general  culture,  I  have  one  or 
two  grave  words  to  say. 

48.  Perhaps  you  thought  that  in  the  beginning  of  my  lect- 
ure to-day  I  too  summarily  dismissed  the  arts  of  construction 
and  action.  But  it  was  not  in  disrespect  to  them  ;  and  I  must 
indeed  ask  you  carefully  to  note  one  or  two  points  respecting 
the  arts  of  which  an  example  is  set  us  by  birds ; — building, 
and  singing. 

The  other  day,  as  I  was  calling  on  the  ornithologist  whose 
collection  of  birds  is,  I  suppose,  altogether  unrivalled  in  Eu- 
rope,— (at  once  a  monument  of  unwearied  love  of  science,  and 
an  example,  in  its  treatment,  of  the  most  delicate  and  patient 
art)- — Mr.  Gould — he  showed  me  the  nest  of  a  common  Eng- 
lish bird  ;  a  nest  which,  notwithstanding  his  knowledge  of 
the  dexterous  building  of  birds  in  all  the  world,  was  not  with- 
out interest  even  to  him,  and  was  altogether  amazing  and  de- 
lightful to  me.  It  was  a  bullfinch's  nest,  which  had  been  set  in 
the  fork  of  a  sapling  tree,  where  it  needed  an  extended  foun- 
dation. And  the  bird  had  built  this  first  story  of  her  nest 
with  withered  stalks  of  clematis  blossom  ;  and  with  nothing 
else.  These  twigs  it  had  interwoven  lightly,  leaving  the 
branched  heads  all  at  the  outside,  producing  an  intricate 
Gothic  boss  of  extreme  grace  and  quaintness,  apparently  ar- 
ranged both  with  triumphant  pleasure  in  the  art  of  basket- 
making,  and  with  definite  purpose  of  obtaining  ornamental 
form. 

49.  I  fear  there  is  no  occasion  to  tell  you  that  the  bird  had 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


331 


no  purpose  of  the  kind.  I  say  that  I  fear  this,  because  I 
would  much  rather  have  to  undeceive  you  in  attributing  too 
much  intellect  to  the  lower  animals,  than  too  little.  But  I 
suppose  the  only  error  which,  in  the  present  condition  of 
natural  history,  you  are  likely  to  fall  into,  is  that  of  supposing 
that  a  bullfinch  is  merely  a  mechanical  arrangement  of  nervous 
fibre,  covered  with  feathers  by  a  chronic  cutaneous  eruption  ; 
and  impelled  by  a  galvanic  stimulus  to  the  collection  of 
clematis. 

50.  You  would  be  in  much  greater,  as  well  as  in  a  more 
shameful,  error,  in  supposing  this,  than  if  you  attributed  to 
the  bullfinch  the  most  deliberate  rivalship  with  Mr.  Street's 
prettiest  Gothic  designs.  The  bird  has  exactly  the  degree  of 
emotion,  the  extent  of  science,  and  the  command  of  art,  which 
are  necessary  for  its  happiness  ;  it  had  felt  the  clematis  twigs 
to  be  lighter  and  tougher  than  any  others  within  its  reach, 
and  probably  found  the  forked  branches  of  them  convenient 
for  reticulation.  It  had  naturally  placed  these  outside,  because 
it  wTanted  a  smooth  surface  for  the  bottom  of  its  nest ;  and 
the  beauty  of  the  result  was  much  more  dependent  on  the 
blossoms  than  the  bird. 

51.  Nevertheless,  I  am  sure  that  if  you  had  seen  the  nest, — 
much  more,  if  you  had  stood  beside  the  architect  at  work 
upon  it, — you  would  have  greatly  desired  to  express  your  ad- 
miration to  her  ;  and  that  if  Wordsworth,  or  any  other  simple 
and  kindly  person,  could  even  wish,  for  a  little  flower's  sake, 

"  That  to  this  mountain  daisy's  self  were  known, 
The  beauty  of  its  star-shaped  shadow,  thrown 
On  the  smooth  surface  of  this  naked  stone," 

much  more  you  would  have  yearned  to  inform  the  bright 
little  nest-builder  of  your  sympathy  ;  and  to  explain  to  her, 
on  art  principles,  what  a  pretty  thing  she  was  making. 

52.  Does  it  never  occur  to  you,  then,  that  to  some  of  the 
best  and  wisest  artists  among  ourselves,  it  may  not  be  always 
possible  to  explain  what  pretty  things  they  are  making  ;  and 
that,  perhaps,  the  very  perfection  of  their  art  is  in  their  know- 
ing so  little  about  it  ? 


332 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


Whether  it  has  occurred  to  you  or  not,  I  assure  you  that  it 
is  so.  The  greatest  artists,  indeed,  will  condescend,  occasion- 
ally, to  be  scientific  ; — will  labour,  somewhat  systematically, 
about  what  they  are  doing,  as  vulgar  persons  do  ;  and  are 
privileged,  also,  to  enjoy  what  they  have  made  more  than 
birds  do  ;  yet  seldom,  observe  you,  as  being  beautiful,  but 
very  much  in  the  sort  of  feeling  which  we  may  fancy  the  bull- 
finch had  also, — that  the  thing,  whether  pretty  or  ugly,  could 
not  have  been  better  done  ;  that  they  could  not  have  made  it 
otherwise,  and  are  thankful  it  is  no  worse.  And,  assuredly, 
they  have  nothing  like  the  delight  in  their  own  work  which  it 
gives  to  other  people. 

53.  But  putting  the  special  simplicities  of  good  artists  out 
of  question,  let  me  ask  you,  in  the  second  place,  whether  it  is 
not  possible  that  the  same  sort  of  simplicity  might  be  desir- 
able in  the  whole  race  of  mankind  ;  and  that  we  ought  all  to 
be  doing  human  work  which  would  appear  better  done  to 
creatures  much  above  us,  than  it  does  to  ourselves.  "Why 
should  not  our  nests  be  as  interesting  things  to  angels,  as 
bullfinches'  are  to  us  ? 

You  will,  probably,  both  smile  at,  and  shrink  from,  such  a 
supposition,  as  an  insolent  one.  But  to  my  thought,  it  seems, 
on  the  contrary,  the  only  modest  one.  That  we  should  be 
able  to  admire  the  work  of  angels  seems  to  me  the  imperti- 
nent idea  ;  not,  at  all,  that  they  should  be  able  to  admire  ours. 

54.  Under  existing  circumstances,  I  confess  the  difficulty. 
It  cannot  be  imagined  that  either  the  back  streets  of  our  man- 
ufacturing towns,  or  the  designs  of  our  suburban  villas,  are 
things  which  the  angels  desire  to  look  into  :  but  it  seems  to 
me  an  inevitably  logical  conclusion  that  if  we  are,  indeed,  the 
highest  of  the  brute  creation,  we  should,  at  least,  possess  as 
much  unconscious  art  as  the  lower  brutes  ;  and  build  nests 
which  shall  be,  for  ourselves,  entirely  convenient ;  and  may, 
perhaps,  in  the  eyes  of  superior  beings,  appear  more  beautiful 
than  to  our  own. 

55.  "  Which  shall  be  for  ourselves,  entirely  convenient." 
Note  the  word  ; — becoming,  decorous,  harmonious,  satisfying. 
We  may  not  be  able  to  build  anything  sublime  ;  but,  at  all 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


333 


events,  we  should,  like  other  flesh-invested  creatures,  be  able 
to  contrive  what  was  decent,  and  it  should  be  an  human  priv- 
ilege to  think  that  we  may  be  admired  in  heaven  for  our  con- 
trivance. 

I  have  some  difficulty  in  proceeding  with  what  I  want  to 
say,  because  I  know  you  must  partly  think  I  am  jesting  with 
you.  I  feel  indeed  some  disposition  to  smile,  myself  ;  not  be- 
cause I  jest,  but  in  the  sense  of  contrast  between  what,  logi- 
cally, it  seems,  ought  to  be  ;  and  what  we  must  confess,  not 
jestingly,  to  be  the  facts.  How  great  also, — how  quaint,  the 
confusion  of  sentiment  in  our  minds,  as  to  this  matter  !  We 
continually  talk  of  honouring  God  with  our  buildings  ;  and 
yet,  we  dare  not  say,  boldly,  that,  in  His  sight,  we  in  the  least 
expect  to  honour  ourselves  by  them  !  And  admitting,  though 
I  by  no  means  feel  disposed  to  admit,  that  here  and  there  we 
may,  at  present,  be  honouring  Him  by  work  that  is  worthy  of 
the  nature  He  gave  us,  in  how  many  places,  think  you,  are  we 
offending  Him  by  work  that  is  disgraceful  to  it  ? 

56.  Let  me  return,  yet  for  an  instant,  to  my  bird  and  her 
nest.  If  not  actually  complacent  and  exultant  in  her  archi- 
tecture, we  may  at  least  imagine  that  she,  and  her  mate,  and 
the  choir  they  join  with,  cannot  but  be  complacent  and  exult- 
ant in  their  song.  I  gave  you,  in  a  former  lecture,  the  sky- 
lark as  a  type  of  mastership  in  music  ;  and  remembering — 
some  of  you,  I  suppose,  are  not  likely  soon  to  forget, — the 
saint  to  whom  yesterday  was  dedicated,  let  me  read  to  you  to- 
day some  of  the  prettiest  English  words  in  which  our  natural 
feeling  about  such  song  is  expressed. 

"  And  anone,  as  I  the  day  espide, 
No  lenger  would  I  in  my  bed  abide, 
But  unto  a  wood  that  was  fast  by, 
I  went  forth  alone  boldely, 
And  held  the  way  downe  by  a  brook  side, 

Till  I  came  to  a  laund  of  white  and  green, 

So  faire  one  had  I  never  in  been, 

The  ground  was  green,  ypoudred  with  daisie, 

The  floures  and  the  greves  like  hie, 

All  greene  and  white,  was  nothing  els  seene. 


334 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


There  sat  I  downe  among  the  faire  flours, 
And  saw  the  birds  trip  out  of  hir  hours, 
There  as  they  rested  hem  all  the  night, 
They  were  so  joyfull  of  the  dayes  light, 
They  began  of  May  for  to  done  honours. 

They  coud  that  service  all  by  rote, 
There  was  many  a  lovely  note, 
Some  sang  loud,  as  they  had  plained, 
And  some  in  other  manner  voice  yfained, 
And  some  all  out  with  the  full  throte. 

They  pinned  hem  and  made  hem  right  gay, 
And  daunceden  and  lepten  on  the  spray, 
And  evermore  two  and  two  in  fere, 
Right  so  as  they  had  chosen  hem  to  yere 
In  Feverere,  upon  saint  Valentines  day." 

You  recollect,  perhaps,  the  dispute  that  follows  between 
the  cuckoo  and  the  nightingale,  and  the  promise  which  the 
sweet  singer  makes  to  Chaucer  for  rescuing  her. 

"  And  then  came  the  Nightingale  to  me 
And  said  Friend,  forsooth  I  thanke  thee 
That  thou  hast  liked  me  to  rescue, 
And  one  avow  to  Love  make  I  now 
That  all  this  May,  I  will  thy  singer  be. 

I  thanked  her,  and  was  right  well  apaied, 
Yea,  quoth  she,  and  be  not  thou  dismaied, 
Tho'  thou  have  heard  the  cnckoo  erst  than  me  ; 
For,  if  I  live,  it  shall  amended  be, 
The  next  May,  if  I  be  not  alfraied." 

c<  If  I  be  not  affraied."  Would  she  not  put  the  "  if  "  mora 
timidly  now,  in  making  the  same  promise  to  any  of  you,  or  in 
asking  for  the  judgment  between  her  and  her  enemy,  which 
was  to  be  past,  do  you  remember,  on  this  very  day  of  the  year, 
so  many  years  ago,  and  within  eight  miles  of  this  very  spot? 

1  *  And  this  shall  be  without  any  Nay 
On  the  morrow  after  St.  Valentine's  day, 
Under  a  maple  that  is  faire  and  green 
Before  the  chamber  window  of  the  Queen 
At  Woodstcke,  upon  the  greene  lawn. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


335 


She  thanked  them,  and  then  her  leave  took 
And  into  an  hawthorne  by  that  broke. 
And  there  she  sate,  and  sang  upon  that  tree 
4  Terme  of  life  love  hath  withheld  me  1 
So  loud,  that  I  with  that  song  awoke." 

57.  " Terme  of  life  love  hath  withheld  me!"  Alas,  how 
have  we  men  reversed  this  song  of  the  nightingale !  so  that 
our  words  must  be  "Terme  of  life,  hatred  hath  withheld  me." 

This,  then,  was  the  old  English  science  of  the  song  of 
birds  ;  and  perhaps  you  are  indignant  with  me  for  bringing 
any  word  of  it  back  to  you  ?  You  have,  I  doubt  not,  your 
new  science  of  song,  as  of  nest-building  :  and  I  am  happy  to 
think  you  could  all  explain  to  me,  or  at  least  you  will  be  able 
to  do  so  before  you  pass  your  natural  science  examination, 
how,  by  the  accurate  connection  of  a  larynx  with  a  bill,  and 
by  the  action  of  heat,  originally  derived  from  the  sun,  upon 
the  muscular  fibre,  an  undulatory  motion  is  produced  in  the 
larynx,  and  an  opening  and  shutting  one  in  the  bill,  which  is 
accompanied,  necessarily,  by  a  piping  sound. 

58.  I  will  not  dispute  your  statement ;  still  less  do  I  wish 
to  answer  for  the  absolute  truth  of  Chaucer's.  You  will  find 
that  the  complete  truth  embraces  great  part  of  both  ;  and 
that  you  may  study,  at  your  choice,  in  any  singing  bird,  the 
action  of  universal  heat  on  a  marvellous  mechanism,  or  of  in- 
dividual life,  on  a  frame  capable  of  exquisite  passion.  '  But 
the  point  I  wish  you  to  consider  is  the  relation,  to  this  lower 
creature's  power,  of  your  own  human  agencies  in  the  produc- 
tion of  sound,  where  you  can  best  unite  in  its  harmony. 

59.  I  had  occasion  only  the  other  day  to  wait  for  half  an 
hour  at  the  bottom  of  Ludgate  Hill.  Standing  as  much  out  of 
the  way  as  I  could,  under  the  shadow  of  the  railroad  bridge, 
I  watched  the  faces,  all  eager,  many  anxious,  and  some  in- 
tensely gloomy,  of  the  hurried  passers  by  ;  and  listened  to  the 
ceaseless  crashing,  whistling,  and  thundering  sounds  which 
mingled  with  the  murmur  of  their  steps  and  voices.  And  in 
the  midst  of  the  continuous  roar,  which  differed  only  from 
that  of  the  wildest  sea  in  storm  by  its  complexity  and  its  dis- 
cordance, I  was  wondering,  if  the  sum  of  what  all  these  peo- 


336 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


pie  were  doing,  or  trying  to  do,  in  the  course  of  the  day, 
could  be  made  manifest,  what  it  would  come  to. 

GO.  The  sum  of  it  would  be,  I  suppose,  that  they  had  all 
contrived  to  live  through  the  day  in  that  exceedingly  unpleas- 
ant manner,  and  that  nothing  serious  had  occurred  to  prevent 
them  from  passing  the  following  day  likewise.  Nay,  I  knew 
also  that  what  appeared  in  their  way  of  life  painful  to  me, 
might  be  agreeable  to  them  ;  and  it  chanced,  indeed,  a  little 
while  afterwards,  that  an  active  and  prosperous  man  of  busi- 
ness, speaking  to  one  of  my  friends  of  the  disappointment  he 
had  felt  in  a  visit  to  Italy,  remarked,  especially,  that  he  was 
not  able  to  endure  more  than  three  days  at  Venice,  because 
there  was  no  noise  there. 

61.  But,  granting  the  contentment  of  the  inhabitants  of 
London  in  consistently  producing  these  sounds,  how  shall  we 
say  this  vocal  and  instrumental  art  of  theirs  may  compare,  in 
the  scheme  of  Nature,  with  the  vocal  art  of  lower  animals  ? 
We  may  indeed  rank  the  danger- whistle  of  the  engines  on 
the  bridge  as  an  excruciating  human  improvement  on  that  of 
the  marmot ;  and  the  trampling  of  feet  and  grinding  of  wheels, 
as  the  human  accentuation  of  the  sounds  produced  by  insects, 
by  the  friction  of  their  wings  or  thighs  against  their  sides : 
but,  even  in  this  comparison,  it  may  cause  us  some  humilia- 
tion to  note  that  the  cicada  and  the  cricket,  when  pleased  to 
sing  *in  their  vibratory  manner,  have  leisure  to  rest  in  their 
delight ;  and  that  the  flight  of  the  firefly  is  silent.  But  how 
will  the  sounds  we  produce  compare  with  the  song  of  birds  ? 
This  London  is  the  principal  nest  of  men  in  the  world  ;  and 
I  was  standing  in  the  centre  of  it.  In  the  shops  of  Fleet 
Street  and  Ludgate  Hill,  on  each  side  of  me,  I  do  not  doubt 
I  could  have  bought  any  quantity  of  books  for  children,  which 
by  way  of  giving  them  religious,  as  opposed  to  secular,  in- 
struction, informed  them  that  birds  praised  God  in  their 
songs.  Now,  though  on  the  one  hand,  you  may  be  very  cer- 
tain that  birds  are  not  machines,  on  the  other  hand  it  is  just 
as  certain  that  they  have  not  the  smallest  intention  of  prais- 
ing God  in  their  songs  ;  and  that  we  cannot  prevent  the  re- 
ligious education  of  our  children  more  utterly  than  by  begin- 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


337 


ning  it  in  lies.  But  it  might  be  expected  of  ourselves  that  we 
should  do  so,  in  the  songs  we  send  up  from  our  principal 
nest !  And  although,  under  the  dome  at  the  top  of  Ludgate 
Hill,  some  attempt  of  the  kind  may  be  made  every  seventh 
day,  by  a  limited  number  of  persons,  we  may  again  reflect, 
with  humiliation,  that  the  birds,  for  better  or  worse,  sing  all, 
and  every  day  ;  and  I  could  not  but  ask  myself,  with  moment- 
arily increasing  curiosity,  as  I  endeavoured  to  trace  the  emo- 
tions and  occupations  of  the  persons  who  passed  by  me,  in 
the  expression  of  their  faces — what  would  be  the  effect  on 
them,  if  any  creatures  of  higher  order  were  suddenly  to  ap- 
pear in  the  midst  of  them  with  any  such  message  of  peace, 
and  invitation  to  rejoicing,  as  they  had  all  been  professing  to 
commemorate  at  Christmas. 

62.  Perhaps  you  recollect,  in  the  lectures  given  on  land- 
scape during  the  spring  of  this  year,  my  directing  your  atten- 
tion to  a  picture  of  Mantegna  s,  in  the  loan  exhibition,  repre- 
senting a  flight  of  twelve  angels  in  blue  sky,  singing  that 
Christmas  song.  I  ought  to  tell  you,  however,  that  one  of 
our  English  artists  of  good  position  dissented  from  my  opin- 
ion about  the  picture  ;  and  remarked  that  in  England  "  we 
wanted  good  art,  and  not  funny  art."  Whereas,  to  me,  it  is 
this  vocal  and  architectural  art  of  Ludgate  Hill  which  appears 
funny  art ;  and  not  Mantegna's.  But  I  am  compelled  to  admit 
that  could  Mantegna's  picture  have  been  realized,  the  result 
would,  in  the  eyes  of  most  men,  have  been  funnier  still.  For 
suppose  that  over  Ludgate  Hill  the  sky  had  indeed  suddenly 
become  blue  instead  of  black  ;  and  that  a  flight  of  twelve  an- 
gels, "  covered  with  silver  wings,  and  their  feathers  with  gold," 
had  alighted  on  the  cornice  of  the  railroad  bridge,  as  the 
doves  alight  on  the  cornices  of  St.  Mark's  at  Venice  ;  and  had 
invited  the  eager  men  of  business  below,  in  the  centre  of  a 
city  confessedly  the  most  prosperous  in  the  world,  to  join 
them  for  five  minutes  in  singing  the  first  five  verses  of  such  a 
psalm  as  the  103rd — "  Bless  the  Lord,  oh  my  soul,  and  all 
that  is  within  me,"  (the  opportunity  now  being  given  for  the 
expression  of  their  most  hidden  feelings)  "all  that  is  within 
me,  bless  His  holy  name,  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits."  Da 


338 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


you  not  even  thus,  in  mere  suggestion,  feel  shocked  at  the 
thought,  and  as  if  my  now  reading  the  words  were  profane  ? 
And  cannot  you  fancy  that  the  sensation  of  the  crowd  at  so 
violent  and  strange  an  interruption  of  traffic,  might  be  some- 
what akin  to  that  which  I  had  occasion  in  my  first  lecture  on 
sculpture  to  remind  you  of, — the  feeling  attributed  by  Goethe 
to  Mephistopheies  at  the  song  of  the  angels:  "Discord  I 
hear,  and  intolerable  jingling  ?  " 

63.  Nay,  farther,  if  indeed  none  of  the  benefits  bestowed 
on,  or  accomplished  by,  the  great  city,  were  to  be  forgotten, 
and  if  search  were  made,  throughout  its  confines,  into  the  re- 
sults of  its  wealth,  might  not  the  literal  discord  in  the  words 
themselves  be  greater  than  the  felt  discord  in  the  sound  of 
them  ? 

I  have  here  in  my  hand  a  cutting  from  a  newspaper,  which 
I  took  with  me  three  years  ago,  to  a  meeting  in  the  interest 
of  social  science,  held  in  the  rooms  of  the  Society  of  Arts,  and 
under  the  presidency  of  the  Prime  Minister  of  England.  "Un- 
der the  (so-called)  £  classical '  paintings  of  Barry,  representing 
the  philosophy  and  poetry  of  the  ancients,  Mr.  Gladstone  was 
in  the  chair  :  and  in  his  presence  a  member  of  the  society  for 
the  promotion  of  Social  Science  propounded  and  supported 
the  statement,  not  irrelevant  to  our  present  inquiry,  that  the 
essential  nature  of  man  was  that  of  a  beast  of  prey.  Though, 
at  the  time,  (suddenly  called  upon  by  the  author  of  Tom 
Broivn  at  Oxford),  I  feebly  endeavoured  to  contradict  that 
Socially  Scientific  person,  I  do  not  at  present  desire  to  do  so. 
I  have  given  you  a  creature  of  prey  for  comparison  of  knowl- 
edge. "  Doth  the  eagle  know  what  is  in  the  pit  ?  "  and  in. 
this  great  nest  of  ours  in  London,  it  would  be  wTeli  if  to  all 
our  children  the  virtue  of  the  creature  of  prey  were  fulfilled, 
and  that,  indeed,  the  stir  and  tumult  of  the  city  were  "  as  the 
eagle  stirreth  up  her  nest,  and  fluttereth  over  her  young." 
But  the  slip  of  paper  I  had  then,  and  have  now,  in  my  hand,* 
contains  information  about  the  state  of  the  nest,  inconsistent 
with  such  similitude.    I  am  not  answerable  for  the  juxtaposi- 


*  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  January  29th,  1869- 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


339 


tion  of  paragraphs  in  it.  The  first  is  a  proposal  for  the  build- 
ing of  a  new  church  in  Oxford,  at  the  cost  of  twenty  thousand 
pounds  ;  the  second  is  the  account  of  the  inquest  on  a  woman 
and  her  child  who  were  starved  to  death  in  the  Isle  of  Dogs. 
The  bodies  were  found  lying,  without  covering,  on  a  bed 
made  of  heaped  rags  ;  and  there  was  no  furniture  in  the  room 
but  a  wooden  stool,  on  which  lay  a  tract  entitled  "  The  Good- 
ness of  God"  The  husband,  who  had  been  out  of  work  for 
six  months,  went  mad  two  days  afterwards  ;  and  being  re- 
fused entrance  at  the  workhouse  because  it  was  "  full  of  mad 
people,"  was  carried  off,  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  says  not  where. 

64.  Now,  gentlemen,  the  question  I  wish  to  leave  with  you 
to-day  is  whether  the  Wisdom,  which  rejoices  in  the  habitable 
parts  of  the  earth,  and  whose  delights  are  with  the  sons  of 
men,  can  be  supposed,  under  circumstances  such  as  these,  to 
delight  herself  in  that  most  closely  and  increasingly  inhabited 
portion  of  the  globe  which  we  ourselves  now  dwell  on  ;  and 
whether,  if  she  cannot  grant  us  to  surpass  the  art  of  the  swal- 
low or  the  eagle,  she  may  not  require  of  us  at  least,  to  reach 
the  level  of  their  happiness.  Or  do  you  seriously  think  that, 
either  in  the  life  of  Ludgate  Hill,  or  death  of  the  Isle  of 
Dogs  ;  in  the  art  of  Ludgate  Hill,  or  idleness  of  the  Isle  of 
Dogs ;  and  in  the  science  and  sanity  of  Ludgate  Hill,  or 
nescience  and  insanity  of  the  Isle  of  Dogs,  we  have,  as  matters 
stand  now,  any  clear  encouragement  to  repeat,  in  that  103rd 
psalm,  the  three  verses  following  the  five  I  named  ;  and  to 
believe  in  our  hearts,  as  we  say  with  our  lips,  that  we  have 
yet,  dwelling  among  us,  unoffended,  a  God  "  who  forgive th 
all  our  iniquities,  who  healeth  all  our  diseases  ;  who  redeem- 
eth  our  life  from  destruction,  who  crowneth  us  with  loving 
kindness  and  tender  mercies,  and  who  satisfieth  our  mouth  with 
good  things,  so  that  our  youth  is  renewed  like  the  eagle's  ?  " 


340 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST, 


LECTUEE  IV. 

THE  POWER  OF  MODESTY  IN  SCIENCE  AND  ART. 

Vfm  February,  1372. 

65.  I  believe,  gentlemen,  that  some  of  you  must  have  been 
surprised, — and,  if  I  succeeded  in  making  my  last  lecture 
clearly  intelligible,  many  ought  to  have  been  surprised, — at 
the  limitations  I  asked  you  to  admit  with  respect  to  the  idea 
of  science,  and  the  position  wfaida  I  asked  you  to  assign  to  it. 
We  are  so  much,  by  the  chances  of  our  time,  accustomed  to 
think  of  science  as  a  process  of  discovery,  that  I  am  sure  some 
of  you  must  have  been  gravely  disconcerted  by  my  requesting, 
and  will  to-day  be  more  disconcerted  by  my  firmly  recom- 
mending, you  to  use  the  word,  and  reserve  the  thought,  of 
science,  for  the  acquaintance  with  things  long  since  discovered, 
and  established  as  true.  We  have  the  misfortune  to  live  in 
an  epoch  of  transition  from  irrational  dulness  to  irrational 
excitement  ;  and  while  once  it  was  the  highest  courage  of 
science  to  question  anything,  it  is  now  an  agony  to  her  to 
leave  anything  unquestioned.  So  that,  unawares,  we  come  to 
measure  the  dignity  of  a  scientific  person  by  the  newness  of 
his  assertions,  and  the  dexterity  of  his  methods  in  debate  ; 
entirely  forgetting  that  science  cannot  become  perfect,  as  an 
occupation  of  intellect,  while  anything  remains  to  be  discov- 
ered ;  nor  wholesome  as  an  instrument  of  education,  while 
anything  is  permitted  to  be  debated. 

66.  It  appears,  doubtless,  a  vain  idea  to  you  that  an  end 
should  ever  be  put  to  discovery  ;  but  remember,  such  impos- 
sibility merely  signifies  that  mortal  science  must  remain  im- 
perfect. Nevertheless,  in  many  directions,  the  limit  to  prac- 
tically useful  discovery  is  rapidly  being  approached  ;  and  you, 
as  students,  would  do  wrell  to  suppose  that  it  has  been  already 
attained.  To  take  the  science  of  ornithology,  for  instance  :  I 
suppose  you  would  have  very  little  hope  of  shooting  a  bird  in 
England,  which  should  be  strange  to  any  master  of  the 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


341 


science,  or  of  shooting  one  anywhere,  which  would  not  fall 
under  some  species  already  described.  And  although  at  the 
risk  of  life,  and  by  the  devotion  of  many  years  to  observation, 
some  of  you  might  hope  to  bring  home  to  our  museum  a  tit- 
mouse with  a  spot  on  its  tail  which  had  never  before  been  seen, 
I  strongly  advise  you  not  to  allow  your  studies  to  be  disturbed 
by  so  dazzling  a  hope,  nor  your  life  exclusively  devoted  even 
to  so  important  an  object.  In  astronomy,  the  fields  of  the  sky 
have  not  yet,  indeed,  been  ransacked  by  the  most  costly  in- 
struments ;  and  it  may  be  in  store  for  some  of  you  to  an- 
nounce the  existence,  or  even  to  analyze  the  materials,  of 
some  luminous  point  which  may  be  seen  two  or  three  times 
in  the  course  of  a  century,  by  any  one  who  will  journey  to 
India  for  the  purpose  ;  and,  when  there,  is  favoured  by  the 
weather.  But,  for  all  practical  purposes,  the  stars  already 
named  and  numbered  are  as  many  as  we  require  to  hear  of ; 
and  if  you  thoroughly  know  the  visible  motions,  and  clearly 
conceive  the  known  relations,  even  of  those  which  can  be  seen 
by  the  naked  eye,  you  will  have  as  much  astronomy  as  is 
necessary,  either  for  the  occupation  of  thought,  or  the  direc- 
tion of  navigation. 

67.  But,  if  you  were  discontented  with  the  limit  I  proposed 
for  your  sciences,  much  more,  I  imagine,  you  were  doubtful 
of  the  ranks  I  assigned  to  them.  It  is  not,  \  know,  in  your 
modern  system,  the  general  practice  to  put  chemistry,  the 
science  of  atoms,  lowest,  and  theology,  the  science  of  Deity, 
highest :  nay,  many  of  us  have  ceased  to  think  of  theology  as 
a  science  at  all,  but  rather  as  a  speculative  pursuit,  in  subject, 
separate  from  science  ;  and  in  temper,  opposed  to  her. 

Yet  it  can  scarcely  be  necessary  for  me  to  point  out  to  you, 
in  so  many  terms,  that  what  we  call  theology,  if  true,  is  a 
science  ;  and  if  false,  is  not  theology  ;  or  that  the  distinction 
even  between  natural  science  and  theology  is  illogical ;  for  you 
might  distinguish  indeed  between  natural  and  unnatural 
science,  but  not  between  natural  and  spiritual,  unless  you  had 
determined  first  that  a  spirit  had  no  nature.  You  will  find 
the  facts  to  be,  that  entirely  true  knowledge  is  both  possible 
and  necessary— -first  of  facts  relating  to  matter,  and  then 


342 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


of  the  forces  and  passions  that  act  on  or  in  matter ;— <. 
that,  of  all  these  forces,  the  noblest  we  can  know  is  the 
energy  which  either  imagines,  or  perceives,  the  existence 
of  a  living  power  greater  than  its  own  ;  and  that  the  study 
of  the  relations  which  exist  between  this  energy,  and 
the  resultant  action  of  men,  are  as  much  subjects  of  pure 
science  as  the  .curve  of  a  projectile.  The  effect,  for  instance, 
upon  your  temper,  intellect,  and  conduct  during  the  day,  of 
your  going  to  chapel  with  or  without  belief  in  the  efficacy  of 
prayer,  is  just  as  much  a  subject  of  definite  science,  as  the 
effect  of  your  breakfast  on  the  coats  of  your  stomach.  Which  | 
is  the  higher  knowledge,  I  have,  with  confidence,  told  you  ; 
and  am  not  afraid  of  any  test  to  which  you  may  submit  my 
assertion. 

68,  Assuming  such  limitation,  then,  and  such  rank,  for  our 
knowledge  ;  assuming,  also,  what  I  have  now,  perhaps  to  your 
weariness,  told  you,  that  graphic  art  is  the  shadow,  or  image, 
of  knowledge, — I  wish  to  point  out  to  you  to-day  the  func- 
tion, with  respect  to  both,  of  the  virtue  called  by  the  Greeks 
*  o-(o6poavvr},'  '  safeness  of  mind,'  corresponding  to  the  '  salus 9 
or  '  sanitas  '  mentis,  of  the  Latins  ;  '  health  of  heart '  is,  per- 
haps, the  best  English ;  if  we  receive  the  words  '  mens,' 
e  pfjvLs,'  or  S£/>ipv  as  expressing  the  passionate  soul  of  the 
human  being,  distinguished  from  the  intellectual  ;  the  '  mens 
sana1  being  possible  to  all  of  us,  though  the  contemplative 
range  of  the  higher  wisdom  may  be  above  our  capacities ;  so 
that  to  each  of  us  Heaven  only  permits  the  ambition  of  being 
crowds,  but  commands  the  resolution  to  be  o-ax^pan/. 

69.  And,  without  discussing  the  use  of  the  word  by  differ- 
ent writers,  I  will  tell  you  that  the  clearest  and  safest  idea  of 
the  mental  state  itself  is  to  be  gained  from  the  representations 
of  it  by  the  words  of  ancient  Christian  religion,  and  even 
from  what  you  may  think  its  superstitions.  Without  any  dis- 
cussion also  as  to  the  personal  existence  or  traditional  char- 
acter of  evil  spirits,  you  will  find  it  a  practical  fact,  that 
external  temptations  and  inevitable  trials  of  temper,  have 
power  against  you  which  your  health  and  virtue  depend  on 
your  resisting ;  that,  if  not  resisted,  the  evil  energy  of  them 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


343 


will  pass  into  your  own  heart,  (^prjv,  or  tirjvis  ;  and  that  the 
ordinary  and  vulgarized  phrase  "  the  Devil,  or  betraying 
Spirit,  is  in  him  "  is  the  most  scientifically  accurate  which  you 
can  apply  to  any  person  so  influenced.  You  will  find  also 
that,  in  the  compass  of  literature,  the  casting  out  of,  or  cleans- 
ing  from,  such  a  state  is  best  symbolized  for  you  by  the 
image  of  one  who  had  been  wandering  wild  and  naked  among 
tombs,  sitting  still,  clothed,  and  in  his  right  mind,  and  that  in 
whatever  literal  or  figurative  sense  you  receive  the  Biblical 
statement  of  what  followed,  this  is  absolutely  certain,  that  the 
herd  of  swine  hastening  to  their  destruction,  in  perfect  sym- 
pathy with  each  other's  fury,  is  the  most  accurate  symbol  ever 

given,  in  literature,  of  consummate  human  a^poa-vv-q. 

%  *  %  * 

(The  conditions  of  insanity,*  delighting  in  scenes  of  death, 
which  affect  at  the  present  time  the  arts  of  revolutionary  Eu- 
rope, were  illustrated  in  the  sequel  of  this  lecture  :  but  I 
neither  choose  to  take  any  permanent  notice  of  the  examples 
I  referred  to,  nor  to  publish  any  part  of  what  I  said,  until  I 
can  enter  more  perfectly  into  the  analysis  of  the  elements  of 
evil  passion  which  always  distorted  and  polluted  even  the 
highest  arts  of  Greek  and  Christian  loyal  religion  ;  and  now  oc- 
cupy in  deadly  entireness,  the  chambers  of  imagination,  devas- 
tated, and  left  desolate  of  joy,  by  impiety,  and  disobedience. 

In  relation  to  the  gloom  of  gray  colour  characteristic  esj:>e- 
cially  of  the  modern  French  Revolutionary  school,  I  entered 
into  some  examination  of  the  conditions  of  real  temperance 
and  reserve  in  colour,  showing  that  it  consisted  not  in  refusing 
colour,  but  in  governing  it ;  and  that  the  most  pure  and  bright 
colours  might  be  thus  perfectly  governed,  while  the  most  dull 
were  probably  also  the  most  violent  and  intemperate.  But  it 
would  be  useless  to  print  this  part  of  the  lecture  without  the 
colour-illustrations  used. 

Passing  to  the  consideration  of  intemperance  and  immodesty 
in  the  choice  even  of  landscape  subjects,  I  referred  thus,  for 
contrast,  to  the  quietude  of  Turner's  "  Greta  and  Tees.") 

*  I  use  this  word  always  meaning  it  to  be  understood  literally  and  in 
its  full  force. 


344 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


70.  If  you  wish  to  feel  the  reserve  of  this  drawing,  look, 
first,  into  the  shops  at  their  display  of  common  chromo-litho- 
tints  ;  see  how  they  are  made  up  of  Matterhorns,  Monte  Eosas, 
blue  glaciers,  green  lakes,  white  towers,  magnificent  banditti, 
romantic  peasantry,  or  always-successful  sportsmen  or  fisher- 
men in  Highland  costume  ;  and  then  see  what  Turner  is  con- 
tent with.  No  Matterhorns  are  needful,  or  even  particularly 
pleasing  to  him.  A  bank,  some  eight  or  ten  feet  high,  of 
Yorkshire  shale  is  enough.  He  would  not  thank  you  for  giv- 
ing him  all  the  giant  forests  of  California  ; — would  not  be  so 
much  interested  in  them,  nor  half  so  happy  among  them,  as 
he  is  here  with  a  swdtch  of  oak  sapling,  which  the  Greta  has 
pulled  down  among  the  stones,  and  teased  awhile,  and  which, 
now  that  the  water  is  lower,  tries  to  get  up  again,  out  of  its 
way. 

He  does  not  want  any  towers  or  towns.  Here  you  are  to  be 
contented  with  three  square  windows  of  a  country  gentleman's 
house.  He  does  not  want  resplendent  banditti.  Behold  ! 
here  is  a  brown  cow  and  a  white  one  :  what  would  you  have 
more?  And  this  scarcely-falling  rapid  of  the  Tees — here 
pausing  to  circle  round  a  pool,  and  there  laughing  as  it  trips 
over  a  ledge  of  rock,  six  or  seven  inches  high,  is  more  to  him 
— infinitely  more — than  would  be  the  whole  colossal  drainage 
of  Lake  Erie  into  Lake  Ontario,  which  Carlyle  has  justly  taken 
for  a  type  of  the  Niagara  of  our  national  precipitous  a<bpoavvy]. 

71.  I  need  not  point  out  to  you  the  true  temperance  of  col- 
oar  in  this  drawing — how  slightly  green  the  trees  are,  how 
softly  blue  the  sky. 

Now  I  put  a  chromo-lithotint  beside  it. 

Well,  why  is  that  good,  this  bad  ?  Simply  because  if  you 
think,  and  work,  and  discipline  yourselves  nobly,  you  will 
come  to  like  the  Greta  and  Tees  ;  if  not,  you  will  come  to  like 
this.  The  one  is  what  a  strong  man  likes  ;  the  other  what  a 
weak  one  likes  :  that  is  modest,  full  of  true  cu'Sws,  noble  re- 
straint, noble  reverence  ; — this  has  no  atStbs,  no  fear,  no 
measure  : — not  even  purpose,  except,  by  accumulation  of  what- 
ever it  can  see  or  snatch,  to  move  the  vile  apathy  of  the  pub- 
lic acj>poovv7]  into  sensation. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


345 


72.  The  apathy  of  d^poavv-q — note  the  expression  !  Yon 
might  think  that  it  was  awc^poa-vvrj,  which  was  apathetic,  and 
that  intemperance  was  full  of  passion.  No  ;  the  exact  con- 
trary is  the  fact.  It  is  death  in  ourselves  which  seeks  the  ex- 
aggerated external  stimulus.  I  must  return  for  a  moment  to 
the  art  of  modern  France. 

The  most  complete  rest  and  refreshment  I  can  get,  when  I 
am  overworked,  in  London  (for  if  I  try  to  rest  in  the  fields,  I 
find  them  turned  into  villas  in  the  course  of  the  week  before), 
is  in  seeing  a  French  play.  But  the  French  act  so  perfectly 
that  I  am  obliged  to  make  sure  beforehand  that  all  is  to  end 
well,  or  it  is  as  bad  as  being  helplessly  present  at  some  real 
misery. 

I  was  beguiled  the  other  day,  by  seeing  it  announced  as  a 
"  Comedie,"  into  going  to  see  "Frou-Frou."  Most  of  you 
probably  know  that  the  three  first  of  its  five  acts  are  comedy, 
or  at  least  playful  drama,  and  that  it  plunges  down,  in  the 
two  last,  to  the  sorrowfullest  catastrophe  of  all  conceivable — 
though  too  frequent  in  daily  life — in  which  irretrievable  grief 
is  brought  about  by  the  passion  of  a  moment,  and  the  ruin  of 
all  that  she  loves,  caused  by  the  heroic  error  of  an  entirely 
good  and  unselfish  person.  The  sight  of  it  made  me  thoroughly 
ill,  and  I  was  not  myself  again  for  a  week. 

But,  some  time  afterwards,  I  was  speaking  of  it  to  a  lady 
who  knew  French  character  well ;  and  asked  her  how  it  was  pos- 
sible for  a  people  so  quick  in  feeling  to  endure  the  action  be- 
fore them  of  a  sorrow  so  poignant.  She  said,  "  It  is  because 
they  have  not  sympathy  enough  :  they  are  interested  only  by 
the  external  scene,  and  are,  in  truth,  at  present,  dull,  not 
quick  in  feeling.  My  own  French  maid  went  the  other  even- 
ing to  see  that  very  play  :  when  she  came  home,  and  I  asked 
her  what  she  thought  of  it,  she  said  ' it  was  charming,  and  she 
bad  amused  herself  immensely.'  '  Amused  !  but  is  not  the  story 
Very  sad  ?  '  '  Oh,  yes,  mademoiselle,  it  is  bien  triste,  but  it  is 
charming ;  and  then,  how  pretty  Fron-Frou  looks  in  her  silk 
dress  ! '  " 

73.  Gentlemen,  the  French  maid's  mode  of  regarding  the 
Iragedy  is,  if  you  think  of  it,  a  most  true  image  of  the  way  in 


346 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


which  fashionable  society  regards  the  world-suffering,  in  the 
midst  of  which,  so  long  as  it  can  amuse  itself,  all  seems  to  it 
well.  If  the  ball-room  is  bright,  and  the  dresses  pretty,  what 
matter  how  much  horror  is  beneath  or  around  ?  Nay,  this 
apathy  checks  us  in  our  highest  spheres  of  thought,  and  chills 
our  most  solemn  purposes.  You  know  that  I  never  join  in 
the  common  outcries  against  Ritualism  ;  yet  it  is  too  painfully 
manifest  to  me  that  the  English  Church  itself  has  withdrawn 
her  eyes  from  the  tragedy  of  all  churches,  to  perk  herself  up 
anew  with  casement  and  vestment,  and  say  of  herself,  compla- 
cently, in  her  sacred  TroiKikLa,  "  How  pretty  Frou-Frou  is,  in 
her  silk  dress  !  " 

74.  We  recognize,  however,  without  difficulty,  the  peril  of 
insatiableness  and  immodesty  in  the  pleasures  of  Art.  Less 
recognized,  but  therefore  more  perilous,  the  insatiableness 
and  immodesty  of  Science  tempt  us  through  our  very  vir- 
tues. 

The  fatallest  furies  of  scientific  d^poavyrj  are  consistent  with 
the  most  noble  powers  of  self-restraint  and  self-sacrifice.  It 
is  not  the  lower  passions,  but  the  loftier  hopes  and  most  hon- 
ourable desires  which  become  deadliest  when  the  charm  of 
them  is  exalted  by  the  vanity  of  science.  The  patience  of  the 
wisest  of  Greek  heroes  never  fails,  when  the  trial  is  by  danger 
or  pain  ;  but  do  you  recollect  that  before  his  trial  by  the  song 
of  the  Sirens,  the  sea  becomes  calm  ?  And  in  the  few  words 
which  Homer  has  told  you  of  their  song,  you  have  not  per- 
haps yet  with  enough  care  observed  that  the  form  of  tempta- 
tion is  precisely  that  to  which  a  man  victorious  over  every 
fleshly  trial  would  be  likely  to  yield.  The  promise  is  not  that 
his  body  shall  be  gratified,  but  that  his  soul  shall  rise  into 
rapture  ;  he  is  not  urged,  as  by  the  subtlety  of  Comus,  to  dis- 
dain the  precepts  of  wisdom,  but  invited,  on  the  contrary,  to 
learn, — as  you  are  all  now  invited  by  the  acppoavvr)  of  your 
age, — better  wisdom  from  the  wise. 

"  For  we  know  all "  (they  say)  "  that  was  done  in  Troy  ac- 
cording to  the  will  of  the  gods,  and  we  know  everything  that 
is  upon  the  all-nourishing  earth." 

All  heavenly  and  earthly  knowledge,  you  see.    I  will  read 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


347 


you  Pope's  expansion  of  the  verses ;  for  Pope  never  alters 
idly,  but  always  illustrates  when  he  expands. 

Oh  stay,  oh  pride  of  Greece  ! 

(You  hear,  they  begin  by  flattery). 

Ulysses,  stay, 
Oh  cease  thy  course,  and  listen  to  our  lay, 
Blest  is  the  man  ordained  our  voice  to  hear, 
The  song  instructs  the  soul,  and  charms  the  ear, 
Approach  !  Thy  soul  shall  into  raptures  rise  ; 
Approach  !  and  learn  new  wisdom  from  the  wise. 
We  know  whate'er  the  kings  of  mighty  name 
Achieved  at  Ilion  in  the  field  of  Fame, 
Whate'er  beneath  the  Sun's  bright  journey  lies, 
Oh,  stay,  and  learn  new  wisdom  from  the  wise." 

Is  it  not  singular  that  so  long  ago  the  danger  of  this  novelty 
of  wisdom  should  have  been  completely  discerned  ?  Is  it  not 
stranger  still  that  three  thousand  years  have  passed  by,  and 
we  have  not  yet  been  able  to  learn  the  lesson,  but  are  still  eager 
to  add  to  our  knowledge,  rather  than  to  use  it ;  and  every 
day  more  passionate  in  discovering, — more  violent  in  compe- 
tition,— are  every  day  more  cold  in  admiration,  and  more  dull 
\n  reverence. 

75.  But,  gentlemen,  Homer's  Ulysses,  bound  to  the  mast, 
Survives.  Dante's  Ulysses  is  bound  to  the  mast  in  another 
fashion.  He,  notwithstanding  the  protection  of  Athena,  and 
after  all  his  victories  over  fate,  is  still  restless  under  the 
temptation  to  seek  new  wisdom.  He  goes  forth  past  the 
pillars  of  Hercules,  cheers  his  crew  amidst  the  uncompassed 
solitudes  of  the  Atlantic,  and  perishes  in  sudden  Chary bdis 
of  the  infinite  sea.  In  hell,  the  restless  flame  in  which  he  is 
wrapt  continually,  among  the  advisers  of  evil,  is  seen,  from 
the  rocks  above,  like  the  firefly's  flitting  to  and  fro  ;  and  the 
waving  garment  of  torture,  which  quivers  as  he  speaks,  and 
aspires  as  he  moves,  condemns  him  to  be  led  in  eternal  temp- 
tation, and  to  be  delivered  from  evil  never  more. 


848 


TH&  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


LECTURE  V. 

THE  POWER  OF  CONTENTMENT  IN  SCIENCE  AND  ART, 

22  nd  February,  1872. 

76.  I  must  ask  you,  in  order  to  make  these  lectures  of  any 
permanent  use,  to  be  careful  in  keeping  note  of  the  main  con- 
clusion at  which  we  arrive  in  the  course  of  each,  and  of  the 
sequence  of  such  results.  In  the  first,  I  tried  to  show  you 
that  Art  was  only  wise,  when  unselfish  in  her  labour  ;  in  the 
second,  that  Science  was  only  wise  when  unselfish  in  her 
statement ;  in  the  third,  that  wise  Art  was  the  shadow,  or  vis- 
ible reflection,  of  wise  Science ;  and  in  the  fourth,  that  all 
these  conditions  of  good  must  be  pursued  temperately  and 
peacefully.  I  have  now  farther  to  tell  you  that  they  must  be 
pursued  independently. 

77.  You  have  not  often  heard  me  use  that  word  "  inde- 
pendence. "  And,  in  the  sense  in  which  of  late  it  has  been 
accepted,  you  have  never  heard  me  use  it  but  with  contempt. 
For  the  true  strength  of  every  human  soul  is  to  be  dependent 
on  as  many  nobler  as  it  can  discern,  and  to  be  depended 
upon,  by  as  many  inferior  as  it  can  reach. 

But  to-day  I  used  the  word  in  a  widely  different  sense.  I 
think  you  must  have  felt,  in  what  amplification  I  was  able  to 
give  you  of  the  idea  of  "Wisdom  as  an  unselfish  influence  in 
Art  and  Science,  how  the  highest  skill  and  knowledge  were 
founded  in  human  tenderness,  and  that  the  kindly  Art-wis- 
dom which  rejoices  in  the  habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  is  only 
another  form  of  the  lofty  Scientific  charity,  which  '  rejoices  in 
the  truth/  And  as  the  first  order  of  "Wisdom  is  to  know  thy- 
self— though  the  least  creature  that  can  be  known — so  the 
first  order  of  Charity  is  to  be  sufficient  for  thyself,  though  the 
least  creature  that  can  be  sufficed  ;  and  thus  contented  and 
appeased,  to  be  girded  and  strong  for  the  ministry  to  others. 
If  sufficient  to  thy  day  is  the  evil  thereof,  how  much  more 
should  be  the  good  ! 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


349 


78.  I  have  asked  you  to  recollect  one  aphorism  respecting 
Science,  one  respecting  Art ;  let  me — and  I  will  ask  no  more 
at  this  time  of  asking — press  you  to  learn,  farther,  by  heart, 
those  lines  of  the  Song  of  the  Sirens :  six  lines  of  Homer,  I 
trust,  will  not  be  a  weariness  to  you  : — 

oil  ydp  ttco  ris  r?}5e  TraprjXaffe  vr\1  fAeXctlvy, 

irpiv  y  rj/jJoou  (ie\lyr]pvy  airh  croadroov  bir  clkovotcu  • 

ctAA'  oye  rep^/dfxeujs  ve7rai,  teal  irKeiova  et5c£s. 

3f5/uey  ydp  rot  tt6.v&\  ua  £v\  Tpoir)  eupeirj 

'Apyeioi  Tpooes  re  &eci/>  ioT7]ri  p.oyqaau  • 

ffi/xev  5\  '6craa  yeprjrai  eirl  x^ov^  TrovKvfioreipY). 

"  No  one  ever  rowed  past  this  way  in  his  black  ship,  before 
he  had  listened  to  the  honey-sweet  singing  of  our  lips.  But 
he  stays  pleased,  though  he  may  know  much.  For  we  know 
all  things  which  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  did  in  the  wide  Tro- 
jan plain,  by  the  will  of  the  gods,  and  we  know  what  things 
take  place  in  the  much  nourishing  earth."  And  this,  remem- 
ber, is  absolutely  true.  No  man  ever  went  past  in  the  black 
ship  ;  obeying  the  grave  and  sad  law  of  life  by  which  it  is  ap- 
pointed for  mortals  to  be  victors  on  the  ocean,  but  he  was 
tempted,  as  he  drew  near  that  deadly  island,  wise  as  he  might 
be,  (kcu  TrXetWa  eiSu)$), — by  the  voices  of  those  who  told  him 
that  they  knew  everything  which  had  been  done  by  the  will 
of  God,  and  everything  which  took  place  on  earth  for  the  ser- 
vice of  man. 

79.  Now  observe  those  two  great  temptations.  You  are 
to  know  everything  that  has  been  done  by  the  will  of  God  : 
and  to  know  everything  that  is  vital  in  the  earth.  And  try  to 
realize  to  yourselves,  for  a  little  while,  the  way  in  which  these 
two  siren  promises  have  hitherto  troubled  the  paths  of  men. 
Think  of  the  books  that  have  been  written  in  false  explana- 
tion of  Divine  Providence  :  think  of  the  efforts  that  have 
been  made  to  show  that  the  particular  conduct  which  we  ap- 
prove in  others,  or  wish  ourselves  to  follow,  is  according  to 
the  will  of  God.  Think  what  ghastly  convulsions  In  thought, 
and  vilenesses  in  action,  have  been  fallen  into  by  the  sects 
which  thought  they  had  adopted,  for  their  patronage,  the 


350 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST 


perfect  purposes  of  Heaven.  Think  of  the  vain  research, 
the  wasted  centuries  of  those  who  have  tried  to  penetrate 
the  secrets  of  life,  or  of  its  support.  The  elixir  vitas,  the 
philosopher's  stone,  the  germ-cells  in  meteoric  iron,  '  cixi  ^dfi 
irovXvfioTt'iQr}'  But  at  this  day,  when  we  have  loosed  the 
last  band  from  the  masts  of  the  black  ship,  and  when,  in- 
stead of  plying  every  oar  to  escape,  as  the  crew  of  Homer's 
Ulysses,  we  row  like  the  crew  of  Dante's  Ulysses,  and  of  our 
oars  make  wings  for  our  foolish  flight, 

E,  volta  nostra  po2)pe  nel  mattino 
De'  remi  facemmo  ale  al  folle  volo — 

the  song  of  the  sirens  becomes  fatal  as  never  yet  it  has  been 
in  time.  We  think  ourselves  privileged,  first  among  men,  to 
know  the  secrets  of  Heaven,  and  fulfil  the  economy  of  earth  ; 
and  the  result  is,  that  of  all  the  races  that  yet  have  been  put 
to  shame  by  their  false  wisdom  or  false  art, — which  have  given 
their  labour  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  their  strength 
for  that  which  satisfieth  not, — we  have  most  madly  abandoned 
the  charity  which  is  for  itself  sufficing,  and  for  others  service- 
able, and  have  become  of  all  creatures  the  most  insufficient  to 
ourselves,  and  the  most  malignant  to  our  neighbours.  Granted 
a  given  degree  of  knowledge — granted  the  *  koi  trXelovd  elSw 9 
in  science,  in  art,  and  in  literature, — and  the  present  relations 
of  feeling  between  France  and  Germany,  between  England  and 
America,  are  the  most  horrible  at  once  in  their  stupidity  and 
malignity,  that  have  ever  taken  place  on  the  globe  we  inhabit, 
even  though  all  of  its  great  histories  are  of  sin,  and  all  its 
great  songs,  of  death. 

80.  Gentlemen,  I  pray  you  very  solemnly  to  put  that  idea 
of  knowing  all  things  in  Heaven  and  Earth  out  of  your  hearts 
and  heads.  It  is  very  little  that  we  can  ever  know,  either  of 
the  ways  of  Providence,  or  the  laws  of  existence.  But  that 
little  is  enough,  and  exactly  enough  :  to  strive  for  more  than 
that  little  is  evil  for  us  ;  and  be  assured  that  beyond  the  need 
of  our  narrow  being,— beyond  the  range  of  the  kingdom  over 
which  it  is  ordained  for  each  of  us  to  rule  in  serene  avrapKua 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST, 


351 


and  self-possession,  he  that  increaseth  toil,  increaseth  folly  ; 
and  he  that  increaseth  knowledge,  increaseth  sorrow. 

81.  My  endeavour,  therefore,  to-day  will  be  to  point  out 
to  you  how  in  the  best  wisdom,  that  there  may  be  happy  ad- 
vance, there  must  first  be  happy  contentment ;  that,  in  one 
sense,  we  must  always  be  entering  its  kingdom  as  a  little  child, 
and  pleased  yet  for  a  time  not  to  put  away  childish  things. 
And  while  I  hitherto  have  endeavoured  only  to  show  how 
modesty  and  gentleness  of  disposition  purified  Art  and  Sci- 
ence, by  permitting  us  to  recognize  the  superiority  of  the  work 
of  others  to  our  own — to-day,  on  the  contrary,  I  wish  to  indi- 
cate for  you  the  uses  of  infantile  self-satisfaction  ;  and  to  show 
you  that  it  is  by  no  error  or  excess  in  our  nature,  by  no  cor- 
ruption or  distortion  of  our  being,  that  we  are  disposed  to  take 
delight  in  the  little  things  that  we  can  do  ourselves,  more  than 
in  the  great  things  done  by  other  people.  So  only  that  we 
recognize  the  littleness  and  the  greatness,  it  is  as  much  a  part 
of  true  Temperance  to  be  pleased  with  the  little  that  we  know, 
and  the  little  that  we  can  do,  as  with  the  little  that  we  have. 
On  the  one  side  Indolence,  on  the  other  Covetousness,  are  as 
much  to  be  blamed,  with  respect  to  our  Arts,  as  our  posses- 
sions ;  and  every  man  is  intended  to  find  an  exquisite  persona] 
happiness  in  his  own  small  skill,  just  as  he  is  intended  to  find 
happiness  in  his  own  small  house  or  garden,  while  he  respects, 
without  coveting,  the  grandeur  of  larger  domains. 

82.  Nay,  more  than  this  :  by  the  wisdom  of  Nature,  it  has 
been  appointed  that  more  pleasure  may  be  taken  in  small 
things  than  in  great,  and  more  in  rude  Art  than  in  the  finest. 
Were  it  otherwise,  we  might  be  disposed  to  complain  of  the 
narrow  limits  which  have  been  set  to  the  perfection  of  human 
skill. 

I  pointed  out  to  you,  in  a  former  lecture,  that  the  excel- 
lence of  sculpture  had  been  confined  in  past  time  to  the  Athe- 
nian and  Etrurian  vales.  The  absolute  excellence  of  painting 
lias  been  reached  only  by  the  inhabitants  of  a  single  city  in 
the  whole  world  ;  and  the  faultless  manner  of  religious  archi- 
tecture holds  only  for  a  period  of  fifty  years  out  of  six  thou- 
sand.   We  are  at  present  tormenting  ourselves  with  the  vain 


352 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


effort  to  teach  men  everywhere  to  rival  Venice  and  Athens,-^, 
with  the  practical  result  of  having  lost  the  enjoyment  of  Art 
altogether  ; — instead  of  being  content  to  amuse  ourselves  still 
with  the  painting  and  carving  which  were  possible  once,  and 
would  be  pleasant  always,  in  Paris,  and  London,  at  Stras- 
bourg, and  at  York. 

I  do  not  doubt  that  you  are  greatly  startled  at  my  saying 
that  greater  pleasure  is  to  be  received  from  inferior  Art  than 
from  the  finest.  But  what  do  you  suppose  makes  all  men  look 
back  to  the  time  of  childhood  with  so  much  regret,  (if  their 
childhood  has  been,  in  any  moderate  degree,  healthy  or  peace- 
ful) ?  That  rich  charm,  which  the  least  possession  had  for  us, 
was  in  consequence  of  the  poorness  of  our  treasures.  That 
miraculous  aspect  of  the  nature  around  us,  was  because  we 
had  seen  little,  and  knew  less.  Every  increased  possession 
loads  us  with  a  new  weariness  ;  every  piece  of  new  knowledge 
diminishes  the  faculty  of  admiration  ;  and  Death  is  at  last  ap- 
pointed to  take  us  from  a  scene  in  which,  if  we  were  to  stay 
longer,  no  gift  could  satisfy  us,  and  no  miracle  surprise. 

83.  Little  as  I  myself  know,  or  can  do,  as  compared  with 
an}r  man  of  essential  power,  my  life  has  chanced  to  be  one  of 
gradual  progress  in  the  things  which  I  began  in  childish 
choice  ;  so  that  I  can  measure  with  almost  mathematical  ex- 
actitude the  degree  of  feeling  with  which  less  and  greater  de- 
grees of  wealth  or  skill  affect  my  mind. 

I  well  remember  the  delight  with  which,  when  I  was  be- 
ginning mineralogy,  I  received  from  a  friend,  who  had  made 
a  voyage  to  Peru,  a  little  bit  of  limestone  about  the  size  of  a 
hazel  nut,  with  a  small  film  of  native  silver  adhering  to  its 
surface.  I  was  never  weary  of  contemplating  my  treasure, 
and  could  not  have  felt  myself  richer  had  I  been  master  of  the 
mines  of  Copiapo. 

I  am  now  about  to  use  as  models  for  your  rock  drawing 
stones  which  my  year  s  income,  when  I  was  a  boy,  wTould  not 
have  bought.  But  I  have  long  ceased  to  take  any  pleasure  in 
their  possession  ;  and  am  only  thinking,  now,  to  whom  else 
they  can  be  of  use,  since  they  can  be  of  no  more  to  me. 

84.  But  the  loss  of  pleasure  to  me  caused  by  advance  in 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


353 


knowledge  of  drawing  has  been  far  greater  than  that  induced 
by  my  riches  in  minerals. 

I  have  placed,  in  your  reference  series,  one  or  two  draw- 
ings of  architecture,  made  when  I  was  a  youth  of  twenty, 
with  perfect  ease  to  myself,  and  some  pleasure  to  other  peo- 
ple. A  day  spent  in  sketching  them  brought  wTith  it  no  weari- 
ness, and  infinite  complacency.  I  know  better  now  what 
drawing  should  be  ;  the  effort  to  do  my  work  rightly  fatigues 
me  in  an  hour,  and  I  never  care  to  look  at  it  again  from  that 
day  forward. 

85.  It  is  true  that  men  of  great  and  real  power  do  the  best 
things  with  comparative  ease  ;  but  you  will  never  hear  them 
express  the  complacency  which  simple  persons  feel  in  partial 
success.  There  is  nothing  to  be  regretted  in  this  ;  it  is  ap- 
pointed for  all  men  to  enjoy,  but  for  few  to  achieve. 

And  do  not  think  that  I  am  wasting  your  time  in  dwelling 
on  these  simple  moralities.  From  the  facts  I  have  been  stat- 
ing we  must  derive  this  great  principle  for  all  effort.  That 
we  must  endeavour  to  do,  not  what  is  absolutely  best,  but 
what  is  easily  within  our  power,  and  adapted  to  our  temper 
and  condition. 

86.  In  your  educational  series  is  a  lithographic  drawing, 
by  Prout,  of  an  old  house  in  Strasbourg.  The  carvings  of  its 
woodwork  are  in  a  style  altogether  provincial,  yet  of  which 
the  origin  is  very  distant.  The  delicate  Kenaissance  archi- 
tecture of  Italy  was  affected,  even  in  its  finest  periods,  by  a 
tendency  to  throw  out  convex  masses  at  the  bases  of  its  pillars  ; 
the  wood-carvers  of  the  16th  century  adopted  this  bulged 
form  as  their  first  element  of  ornamentation,  and  these  win- 
dows of  Strasbourg  are  only  imitations  by  the  German  peas- 
antry of  what,  in  its  finest  type,  you  must  seek  as  far  away  as 
the  Duomo  of  Bergamo. 

But  the  burgher,  or  peasant,  of  Alsace  enjoyed  his  rude 
imitation,  adapted,  as  it  was,  boldly  and  frankly  to  the  size  of 
his  house  and  the  grain  of  the  larch  logs  of  which  he  built  it, 
infinitely  more  than  the  refined  Italian  enjoyed  the  floral 
luxuriance  of  his  marble  :  and  ail  the  treasures  of  a  great  ex- 
hibition could  not  have  given  him  the  tenth  part  of  the  exul- 


354 


THE  EA  G  LE  '£  NEST. 


tation  with  which  he  saw  the  gable  of  his  roof  completed  over 
its  jutting  fret-work  ;  and  wrote  among  the  rude  intricacies 
of  its  sculpture,  in  flourished  black  letter,  that  "He  and  his 
wife  had  built  their  house  with  God's  help,  and  prayed  Him 
to  let  them  live  long  in  it, — they,  and  their  children." 

87.  But  it  is  not  only  the  rustic  method  of  architecture 
which  I  wish  you  to  note  in  this  plate  ;  it  is  the  rustic  method 
of  drawing  also.  The  manner  in  which  these  blunt  timber 
carvings  are  drawn  by  Prout  is  just  as  provincial  as  the  carv- 
ings themselves.  Born  in  a  far-away  district  of  England,  and 
learning  to  draw,  unhelped,  with  fishing-boats  for  his  models  ; 
making  his  way  instinctively  until  he  had  command  of  his 
pencil  enough  to  secure  a  small  income  by  lithographic  draw- 
ing ;  and  finding  picturesque  character  in  buildings  from  which 
all  the  finest  lines  of  their  carving  had  been  effaced  by  time  ; — 
possessing  also  an  instinct  in  the  expression  of  such  subjects  so 
peculiar  as  to  win  for  him  a  satisfying  popularity,  and,  far  bet- 
ter, to  enable  him  to  derive  perpetual  pleasure  in  the  seclu- 
sion of  country  hamlets,  and  the  quiet  streets  of  deserted 
cities, — Prout  had  never  any  motive  to  acquaint  himself  with 
the  refinements,  or  contend  with  the  difficulties,  of  a  more  ac- 
complished art.  So  far  from  this,  his  manner  of  work  was, 
by  its  very  imperfection,  in  the  most  perfect  sympathy  with 
the  subjects  he  enjoyed.  The  broad  chalk  touches  in  which 
he  has  represented  to  us  this  house  at  Strasbourg  are  entirely 
sufficient  to  give  true  idea  of  its  effect.  To  have  drawn  its 
ornaments  with  the  subtlety  of  Leonardesque  delineation 
wTould  only  have  exposed  their  faults,  and  mocked  their  rustic- 
ity. The  drawing  would  have  become  painful  to  you  from 
the  sense  of  the  time  which  it  had  taken  to  represent  what 
was  not  worth  the  labour,  and  to  direct  your  attention  to  what 
could  only,  if  closely  examined,  be  matter  of  offence.  But 
here  you  have  a  simple  and  provincial  draughtsman  hap- 
pily and  adequately  expressing  a  simple  and  provincial  archi- 
tecture ;  nor  could  either  builder  or  painter  have  become 
wiser,  but  to  their  loss. 

88.  Is  it  then,  you  will  ask  me,  seriously  to  be  recom- 
mended, and,  however  recommendable,  is  it  possible,  that 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


355 


men  should  remain  contented  with  attainments  which  they 
know  to  be  imperfect?  and  that  now,  as  in  former  times, 
large  districts  of  country,  and  generations  of  men,  should  be 
enriched  or  amused  by  the  products  of  a  clumsy  ignorance  ? 
I  do  not  know  how  far  it  is  possible,  but  I  know  that  wher- 
ever you  desire  to  have  true  art,  it  is  necessary.  Ignorance, 
which  is  contented  and  clumsy,  will  produce  what  is  imperfect, 
but  not  offensive.  But  ignorance  cfas-contented,  and  dexter- 
ous, learning  what  it  cannot  understand,  and  imitating  what 
it  cannot  enjoy,  produces  the  most  loathsome  forms  of  manu- 
facture that  can  disgrace  or  mislead  humanity.  Some  years 
since,  as  I  was  looking  through  the  modern  gallery  at  the  quiet 
provincial  German  School  of  Diisseldorf,  I  was  fain  to  leave 
all  their  epic  and  religious  designs,  that  I  might  stay  long  be- 
fore a  little  painting  of  a  shepherd  boy  carving  his  dog  out  of 
a  bit  of  deal.  The  dog  was  sitting  by,  with  the  satisfied  and 
dignified  air  of  a  personage  about  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
to  be  worthily  represented  in  sculpture ;  and  his  master  was 
evidently  succeeding  to  his  mind  in  expressing  the  features  of 
his  friend.  The  little  scene  was  one  which,  as  you  know, 
must  take  place  continually  among  the  cottage  artists  who 
supply  the  toys  of  Nuremberg  and  Berne.  Happy,  these  !  so 
long  as,  undisturbed  by  ambition,  they  spend  their  leisure 
time  in  work  pretending  only  to  amuse,  yet  capable,  in  its 
own  way,  of  showing  accomplished  dexterity,  and  vivid  per- 
ception of  nature.  We,  in  the  hope  of  doing  great  things, 
have  surrounded  our  workmen  with  Italian  models,  and 
tempted  them  with  prizes  into  competitive  mimicry  of  all  that 
is  best,  or  that  we  imagine  to  be  best,  in  the  work  of  every 
people  under  the  sun.  And  the  result  of  our  instruction  is 
only  that  we  are  able  to  produce, — I  am  now  quoting  the  state- 
ment I  made  last  May,  "  the  most  perfectly  and  roundly  ill- 
done  things "  that  ever  came  from  human  hands.  I  should 
thankfully  put  upon  my  chimney-piece  the  wooden  dog  cut  by 
the  shepherd  boy  :  but  I  should  be  willing  to  forfeit  a  large 
sum,  rather  than  keep  in  my  room  the  number  1  of  the  Ken- 
sington Museum — thus  described  in  its  catalogue — "Statue 
in  black  and  white  marble,  of  a  Newfoundland  dog  standing 


356 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


on  a  serpent,  which  rests  on  a  marble  cushion  ; — the  pedestal 
ornamented  with  Pietra  Dura  fruits  in  relief." 

89.  You  will,  however,  I  fear,  imagine  me  indulging  in  my 
usual  paradox,  when  I  assure  you  that  all  the  efforts  we  have 
been  making  to  surround  ourselves  with  heterogeneous  means 
of  instruction,  will  have  the  exactly  reverse  effect  from  that 
wThich  we  intend  ; — and  that,  whereas  formerly  we  were  able 
only  to  do  a  little  well,  we  are  qualifying  ourselves  now  to  do 
everything  ill.  Nor  is  the  result  confined  to  our  workmen 
only.  The  introduction  of  French  dexterity  and  of  German 
erudition  has  been  harmful  chiefly  to  our  most  accomplished 
artists— and  in  the  last  Exhibition  of  our  Royal  Academy 
there  was,  I  think,  no  exception  to  the  manifest  fact  that 
every  painter  of  reputation  painted  worse  than  he  did  ten 
years  ago. 

90.  Admitting,  however,  (not  that  I  suppose  you  will  at 
once  admit,  but  for  the  sake  of  argument,  supposing,)  that 
this  is  true  ?  what,  we  have  farther  to  ask,  can  be  done  to  dis- 
courage ourselves  from  calamitous  emulation,  and  withdraw 
our  workmen  from  the  sight  of  what  is  too  good  to  be  of  use 
to  them  ? 

But  this  question  is  not  one  which  can  be  determined  by 
the  needs,  or  limited  to  the  circumstances  of  Art.  To  live 
generally  more  modest  and  contented  lives  ;  to  win  the  great- 
est possible  pleasure  from  the  smallest  things  ;  to  do  what  is 
likely  to  be  serviceable  to  our  immediate  neighbours,  whether 
it  seem  to  them  admirable  or  not ;  to  make  no  pretence  of 
admiring  what  has  really  no  hold  upon  our  hearts  ;  and  to  be 
resolute  in  refusing  all  additions  to  our  learning,  until  we 
have  perfectly  arranged  and  secured  what  learning  we  have 
got  ; — these  are  conditions,  and  laws,  of  unquestionable  cro^ta 
and  o-axfrpoavvr),  which  will  indeed  lead  us  up  to  fine  art  if  we 
are  resolved  to  have  it  fine ;  but  will  also  do  what  is  much 
better,  make  rude  art  precious. 

91.  It  is  not,  however,  by  any  means  necessary  that  provin- 
cial art  should  be  rude,  though  it  may  be  singular.  Often  it 
is  no  less  delicate  than  quaint,  and  no  less  refined  in  grace 
than  original  in  character.   This  is  likely  always  to  take  place 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


357 


when  a  people  of  naturally  fine  artistic  temper  work  with  the 
respect  which,  as  I  endeavoured  to  show  you  in  a  former 
lecture,  ought  always  to  be  paid  to  local  material  and  cir- 
cumstance. 

I  have  placed  in  your  educational  series  the  photograph  of 
the  door  of  a  wooden  house  in  Abbeville,  and  of  the  winding 
stair  above ;  both  so  exquisitely  sculptured  that  the  real  vine- 
leaves  which  had  wreathed  themselves  about  their  pillars, 
cannot,  in  the  photograph,  be  at  once  discerned  from  the 
carved  foliage.  The  latter,  quite  as  graceful,  can  only  be 
known  for  art  by  its  quaint  setting. 

Yet  this  school  of  sculpture  is  altogether  provincial.  It 
could  only  have  risen  in  a  richly-wooded  chalk  country, 
where  the  sapling  trees  beside  the  brooks  gave  example  to 
the  workmen  of  the  most  intricate  tracery,  and  the  white 
cliffs  above  the  meadowrs  furnished  docile  material  to  his 
hand. 

92.  I  have  now,  to  my  sorrow,  learned  to  despise  the  elab- 
orate intricacy,  and  the  playful  realizations,  of  the  Norman 
designers  ;  and  can  only  be  satisfied  by  the  reserved  and 
proud  imagination  of  the  master  schools.  But  the  utmost 
pleasure  I  now  take  in  these  is  almost  as  nothing,  compared 
to  the  joy  I  used  to  have,  when  I  knew  no  better,  in  the 
fretted  pinnacles  of  Rouen-;-  and  white  lace,  rather  than  stone- 
work, of  the  chapels  of  Reu  and  Amboise. 

Yet  observe  that  the  first  condition  of  this  really  precious 
provincial  work  is  its  being  the  best  that  can  be  done  under 
the  given  circumstances  ;  and  the  second  is,  that  though 
provincial,  it  is  not  in  the  least  frivolous  or  ephemeral,  but  as 
definitely  civic,  or  public,  in  design,  and  as  permanent  in  the 
manner  of  it,  as  the  work  of  the  most  learned  academies  : 
while  its  execution  brought  out  the  energies  of  each  little 
state,  not  necessarily  in  rivalship,  but  severally  in  the  per- 
fecting of  styles  which  Nature  had  rendered  it  impossible  for 
their  neighbours  to  imitate. 

93.  This  civic  unity,  and  the  feeling  of  the  workman  that 
he  is  performing  his  part  in  a  great  scene  which  is  to  endure 
for  centuries,  while  yet,  within  the  walls  of  his  city,  it  is  to 


358 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


be  a  part  of  his  own  peculiar  life,  and  to  be  separate  from  all 
the  world  besides,  developes,  together,  whatever  duty  he 
acknowledges  as  a  patriot,  and  whatever  complacency  he  feels 
as  an  artist. 

We  now  build,  in  our  villages,  by  the  rules  of  the  Academy 
of  London  ;  and  if  there  be  a  little  original  vivacity  or  genius 
in  any  provincial  workman,  he  is  almost  sure  to  spend  it  in 
making  a  ridiculous  toy.  Nothing  is  to  me  much  more  pa- 
thetic than  the  way  that  our  neglected  workmen  thus  throw 
their  lives  away.  As  I  was  walking  the  other  day  through 
the  Crystal  Palace,  I  came  upon  a  toy  which  had  taken  the 
leisure  of  five  years  to  make  ;  you  dropped  a  penny  into  the 
chink  of  it,  and  immediately  a  little  brass  steam-engine  in  the 
middle  started  into  nervously  hurried  action  :  some  bell- 
ringers  pulled  strings  at  the  bottom  of  a  church  steeple 
which  had  no  top  ;  two  regiments  of  cavalry  marched  out 
from  the  sides,  and  manoeuvred  in  the  middle  ;  and  two  well- 
dressed  persons  in  a  kind  of  opera-box  expressed  their  satis- 
faction by  approving  gestures. 

In  old  Ghent,  or  Bruges,  or  York,  such  a  man  as  the  one 
who  made  this  toy,  with  companions  similarly  minded,  wrould 
have  been  taught  how  to  employ  himself,  not  to  their  less 
amusement,  but  to  better  purpose  ;  and  in  their  five  years  of 
leisure  hours  they  would  have  carved  a  flamboyant  crown  for 
the  belfry-tower,  and  would  have  put  chimes  into  it  that  would 
have  told  the  time  miles  away,  with  a  pleasant  tune  for  the 
hour,  and  a  variation  for  the  quarters,  and  cost  the  passers-by 
in  all  the  city  and  plain  not  so  much  as  the  dropping  of  a 
penny  into  a  chink. 

94.  Do  not  doubt  that  I  feel,  as  strongly  as  any  of  you  can 
feel,  the  utter  impossibility  at  present  of  restoring  provincial 
simplicity  to  our  country  towns. 

My  despondency  respecting  this,  and  nearly  all  other  mat- 
ters which  I  know  to  be  necessary,  is  at  least  as  great, — it  is 
certainly  more  painful  to  me,  in  the  decline  of  life, — than  that 
which  any  of  my  younger  hearers  can  feel.  But  what  I  have 
to  tell  you  of  the  unchanging  principles  of  nature,  and  of  art, 
must  not  be  affected  by  either  hope  or  fear.    And  if  I  succeed 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


359 


in  convincing  you  what  these  principles  are,  there  are  many 
practical  consequences  which  you  may  deduce  from  them,  if 
ever  you  find  yourselves,  as  young*  Englishmen  are  often  likely 
to  find  themselves,  in  authority  over  foreign  tribes  of  peculiar 
or  limited  capacities. 

Be  assured  that  you  can  no  more  drag  or  compress  men 
into  perfection  than  you  can  drag  or  compress  plants.  If 
ever  you  find  yourselves  set  in  positions  of  authority,  and  are 
entrusted  to  determine  modes  of  education,  ascertain  first 
what  the  people  you  would  teach ,  have  been  in  the  habit  of 
doing,  and  encourage  them  to  do  that  better.  Set  no  other 
excellence  before  their  eyes  ;  disturb  none  of  their  reverence 
for  the  past  ;  do  not  think  yourselves  bound  to  dispel  their 
ignorance,  or  to  contradict  their  superstitions  ;  teach  them 
only  gentleness  and  truth  ;  redeem  them  by  example  from 
habits  which  you  know  to  be  unhealthy  or  degrading  ;  but 
cherish,  above  all  things,  local  associations,  and  hereditary  skill. 

It  is  the  curse  of  so-called  civilization  to  pretend  to  origi- 
nality by  the  wilful  invention  of  new  methods  of  error,  while 
it  quenches  wherever  it  has  power,  the  noble  originality  of 
nations,  rising  out  of  the  purity  of  their  race,  and  the  love  of 
their  native  land. 

95.  I  could  say  much  more,  but  I  think  I  have  said  enough 
to  justify  for  the  present  what  you  might  otherwise  have 
thought  singular  in  the  methods  I  shall  adopt  for  your  exer- 
cise in  the  drawing  schools.  I  shall  indeed  endeavour  to 
write  down  for  you  the  laws  of  the  art  which  is  centrally  best ; 
and  to  exhibit  to  you  a  certain  number  of  its  unquestionable 
standards :  but  your  own  actual  practice  shall  be  limited  to 
objects  which  will  explain  to  you  the  meaning,  and  awaken 
you  to  the  beauty,  of  the  art  of  your  own  country. 

The  first  series  of  my  lectures  on  sculpture  must  have 
proved  to  you  that  I  do  not  despise  either  the  workmanship 
or  the  mythology  of  Greece  ;  but  I  must  assert  with  more 
distinctness  than  even  in  my  earliest  works,  the  absolute  un- 
fitness of  all  its  results  to  be  made  the  guides  of  English 
students  or  artists. 

Every  nation  can  represent,  with  prudence,  or  success, 


360 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


only  the  realities  in  which  it  delights.  What  you  have  with 
you,  and  before  you,  daily,  dearest  to  your  sight  and  heart, 
that,  by  the  magic  of  your  hand,  or  of  your  lips,  you  can 
gloriously  express  to  others  ;  and  what  you  ought  to  have  in 
your  sight  and  heart, — what,  if  you  have  not,  nothing  else 
can  be  truly  seen  or  loved, — is  the  human  life  of  your  own 
people,  understood  in  its  history,  and  admired  in  its  presence. 

And  unless  that  be  first  made  beautiful,  idealism  must  be 
false,  and  imagination  monstrous. 

It  is  your  influence  on  the  existing  world  which,  in  yom* 
studies  here,  you  ought  finally  to  consider  ;  and  although 
it  is  not,  in  that  influence,  my  function  to  direct  you,  I  hope 
you  will  not  be  discontented  to  know  that  I  shall  ask  no  effort 
from  your  art-genius,  beyond  the  rational  suggestion  of  what 
we  may  one  day  hope  to  see  actually  realized  in  England,  in 
the  sweetness  of  her  landscape,  and  the  dignity  of  her  people. 

In  connection  with  the  subject  of  this  lecture,  I  may  men- 
tion to  you  that  I  have  received  an  interesting  letter,  request  • 
ing  me  to  assist  in  promoting  some  improvements  designed 
in  the  city  of  Oxford. 

But  as  the  entire  charm  and  educational  power  of  the  city 
of  Oxford,  so  far  as  that  educational  power  depended  on  rev- 
erent associations,  or  on  visible  solemnities  and  serenities  of 
architecture,  have  been  already  destroyed  ;  and,  as  far  as  our 
own  lives  extend,  destroyed,  I  may  say,  for  ever,  by  the  manu- 
facturing suburb  which  heaps  its  ashes  on  one  side,  and  the 
cheap-lodging  suburb  which  heaps  its  brick-bats  on  the  other ; 
I  am  myself,  either  as  antiquary  or  artist,  absolutely  indiffer 
ent  to  what  happens  next ;  except  on  grounds  respecting  the 
possible  health,  cleanliness,  and  decency  which  may  yet  be 
obtained  for  the  increasing  population. 

How  far  cleanliness  and  decency  bear  on  art  and  science, 
or  on  the  changed  functions  of  the  university  to  its  crowd  of 
modern  students,  I  have  partly  to  consider  in  connection  with 
the  subject  of  my  next  lecture,  and  I  will  reserve  therefore 
any  definite  notice  of  these  proposed  improvements  in  the 
city,  until  the  next  occasion  of  meeting  you. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST, 


361 


LECTUEE  VI 

THE  RELATION  TO  ART  OF  THE  SCIENCE  OF  LIGHT. 

Mth  February,  1872. 

96.  I  have  now,  perhaps  to  the  exhaustion  of  your  patience, 
but  you  will  find,  not  without  real  necessity,  denned  the  man- 
ner in  which  the  mental  tempers,  ascertained  by  philosojDhy 
to  be  evil  or  good,  retard  and  advance  the  parallel  studies  of 
science  and  art. 

In  this  and  the  two  next  following  lectures  I  shall  endeav- 
our to  state  to  you  the  literal  modes  in  which  the  virtues  of 
art  are  connected  with  the  principles  of  exact  science  ;  but 
now,  remember,  I  am  speaking,  not  of  the  consummate  sci- 
ence of  which  art  is  the  image  ;  but  only  of  what  science  we 
have  actually  attained,  which  is  often  little  more  than  termin- 
ology (and  even  that  uncertain),  with  only  a  gleam  of  true 
science  here  and  there. 

I  will  not  delay  you  by  any  defence  of  the  arrangement 
of  sciences  I  have  chosen.  Of  course  we  may  at  once  dismiss 
chemistry  and  pure  mathematics  from  our  consideration. 
Chemistry  can  do  nothing  for  art  but  mix  her  colours,  and 
tell  her  what  stones  will  stand  weather  ;  (I  wish,  at  this  day, 
she  did  as  much  ;)  and  with  pure  mathematics  we  have  noth- 
ing whatever  to  do  ;  nor  can  that  abstract  form  of  high 
mathesis  stoop  to  comprehend  the  simplicity  of  art.  To  a 
first  wrangler  at  Cambridge,  under  the  present  conditions  of 
his  trial,  statues  will  necessarily  be  stone  dolls,  and  imagina- 
tive work  unintelligible.  We  have,  then,  in  true  fellowship 
with  art,  only  the  sciences  of  light  and  form,  (optics  and 
geometry).  If  you  will  take  the  first  syllable  of  the  word 
'  geometry '  to  mean  earth  in  the  form  of  flesh,  as  well  as  of 
clay,  the  two  words  sum  every  science  that  regards  graphic 
art,  or  of  which  graphic  art  can  represent  the  conclusions. 

97.  To-day  we  are  to  speak  of  optics,  the  science  of  seeing ; 
•—of  that  power,  whatever  it  may  be,  which  (by  Plato's  defini- 
tion), "through  the  eyes,  manifests  colour  to  us." 


382 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


Hold  that  definition  always,  and  remember  that  'light' 
means  accurately  the  power  that  affects  the  eyes  of  animals 
with  the  sensation  proper  to  them.  The  study  of  the  effect 
of  light  on  nitrate  of  silver  is  chemistry,  not  optics  ;  and  what 
is  light  to  us  may  indeed  shine  on  a  stone ;  but  is  not  light 
to  the  stone.  The  "  fiat  lux  "  of  creation  is,  therefore,  in  the 
deep  sense  of  it,  "fiat  animal 

We  cannot  say  that  it  is  merely  "  fiat  oculus,"  for  the  effect 
of  light  on  living  organism,  even  when  sightless,  cannot  be 
separated  from  its  influence  on  sight.  A  plant  consists  essen- 
tially of  two  parts,  root  and  leaf :  the  leaf  by  nature  seeks 
light,  the  root  by  nature  seeks  darkness :  it  is  not  warmth  or 
cold,  but  essentially  light  and  shade,  which  are  to  them,  as  to 
us,  the  appointed  conditions  of  existence. 

98.  And  you  are  to  remember  still  more  distinctly  that  the 
words  "fiat  lux"  mean  indeed  "fiat  anima," because  even  the 
power  of  the  eye  itself,  as  such,  is  in  its  animation.  You  do 
not  see  ivith  the  lens  of  the  eye.  You  see  through  that,  and 
by  means  of  that,  but  you  see  with  the  soul  of  the  eye. 

99.  A  great  physiologist  said  to  me  the  other  day — it  wras 
in  the  rashness  of  controversy,  and  ought  not  to  be  remem- 
bered as  a  deliberate  assertion,  therefore  I  do  not  give  his 
name—still  he  did  say — that  sight  was  "  altogether  mechan- 
ical." The  words  simply  meant,  if  they  meant  anything,  that 
all  his  physiology  had  never  taught  him  the  difference  between 
eyes  and  telescopes.  Sight  is  an  absolutely  spiritual  phenom- 
enon ;  accurately,  and  only,  to  be  so  defined :  and  the  "  Let 
there  be  light,"  is  as  much,  when  you  understand  it,  the  or- 
dering of  intelligence,  as  the  ordering  of  vision.  It  is  the  ap- 
pointment of  change  of  what  had  been  else  only  a  mechanical 
effluence  from  things  unseen  to  things  unseeing, — from  stars 
that  did  not  shine  to  earth  that  could  not  perceive  ; — the 
change,  I  say,  of  that  blind  vibration  into  the  glory  of  the  sun 
and  moon  for  human  eyes  ;  so  rendering  possible  also  the 
communication  out  of  the  unfathomable  truth,  of  that  portion 
of  truth  which  is  good  for  us,  and  animating  to  us,  and  is  set 
to  rule  over  the  day  and  night  of  our  jo}r  and  sorrow. 

100.  The  sun  was  set  thus  '  to  rule  the  day.'    And  of  lata 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


363 


you  have  learned  that  he  was  set  to  rule  everything  else  that 
we  know  of.  You  have  been  taught  that,  by  the  Syrens,  as  a 
piece  of  entirely  new  knowledge,  much  to  be  exulted  over. 
We  painters,  indeed,  have  been  for  some  time  acquainted  with 
the  general  look  of  the  sun,  and  long  before  there  were  paint- 
ers there  were  wise  men, — Zoroastrian  and  other, — who  had 
suspected  that  there  was  power  in  the  sun  ;  but  the  Sirens  of 
yesterday  have  somewhat  new,  it  seems,  to  tell  }rou  of  his  au- 
thority, err!  ypovl  7rov\v/3oT€Lprj.  I  take  a  passage,  almost  at 
random,  from  a  recent  scientific  work. 

"  Just  as  the  phenomena  of  water-formed  rocks  all  owe  their 
existence  directly  or  indirectly  chiefly  to  the  sun's  energy,  so 
also  do  the  phenomena  interwoven  with  life.  This  has  long 
been  recognized  by  various  eminent  British  and  foreign  physic- 
ists ;  and  in  1854  Professor  ,  in  his  memoir  on  the  method 

of  palaeontology,  asserted  that  organisms  were  but  manifesta- 
tions of  applied  physics  and  applied  chemistry.  Professor  

puts  the  generalizations  of  physicists  in  a  few  words :  when 
speaking  of  the  sun,  it  is  remarked — 6  He  rears  the  whole 
vegetable  world,  and  through  it  the  animal ;  the  lilies  of  the 
field  are  his  workmanship,  the  verdure  of  the  meadows,  and 
the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills.  He  forms  the  muscle,  he 
urges  the  blood,  he  builds  the  brain.  His  fleetness  is  in  the 
lion's  foot ;  he  springs  in  the  panther,  he  soars  in  the  eagle, 
he  slides  in  the  snake.  He  builds  the  forest  and  hews  it  down, 
the  power  which  raised  the  tree  and  that  which  wields  the 
axe  being  one  and  the  same.' " 

All  this  is  exceedingly  true  ;  and  it  is  new  in  one  respect, 
namely,  in  the  ascertainment  that  the  quantity  of  solar  force 
necessary  to  produce  motive  power  is  measurable,  and,  in  its 
sum,  unalterable.  For  the  rest,  it  was  perfectly  well  known  in 
Homer's  time,  as  now,  that  animals  could  not  move  till  they 
were  warm ;  and  the  fact  that  the  warmth  which  enables  them 
to  do  so  is  finally  traceable  to  the  sun,  would  have  appeared  to 
a  Greek  physiologist,  no  more  interesting  than,  to  a  Greek  poet, 
would  have  been  the  no  less  certain  fact,  that  "  Tout  ce  qui 
se  peut  dire  de  beau  est  dans  les  dictionnaires  ;  il  n'y  a  que 
les  mots  qui  sont  transposees  " — Everything  fine,  that  can  be 


364 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


Baicl,  is  in  the  dictionaries  ;  it  is  only  that  the  words  are  trans- 
posed. 9 

Yes,  indeed  ;  but  to  the  iroirfr^^  the  gist  of  the  matter  is  in 
the  transposition.  The  sun  does,  as  the  delighted  physicist 
tells  you,  unquestionably  "  slide  in  the  snake  ;  "  but  how 
comes  he  to  adopt  that  manner,  we  artists  ash,  of  (literally) 
transposition  ? 

101.  The  summer  before  last,  as  I  was  walking  in  the  woods 
near  the  Giesbach,  on  the  Lake  of  Brientz,  and  moving  very 
quietly,  I  came  suddenly  on  a  small  steel-grey  serpent,  lying 
in  the  middle  of  the  path  ;  and  it  was  greatly  surprised  to  see 
me.  Serpents,  however,  always  have  complete  command  of 
their  feelings,  and  it  looked  at  me  for  a  quarter  of  a  minute 
without  the  slightest  change  of  posture  :  then,  with  an  almost 
imperceptible  motion,  it  began  to  withdraw  itself  beneath  a 
cluster  of  leaves.  Without  in  the  least  hastening  its  action,  it 
gradually  concealed  the  whole  of  its  body.  I  was  about  to 
raise  one  of  the  leaves,  when  I  saw  what  I  thought  was  the 
glance  of  another  serpent,  in  the  thicket  at  the  path  side  ;  but 
it  was  the  same  one,  which,  having  once  withdrawn  itself  from 
observation  beneath  the  leaves,  used  its  utmost  agility  to 
spring  into  the  wood  ;  and  with  so  instantaneous  a  flash  of 
motion,  that  I  never  saw  it  leave  the  covert,  and  only  caught  the 
gleam  of  light  as  it  glided  away  into  the  copse. 

102.  NowT,  it  was  to  me  a  matter  of  supreme  indifference 
whether  the  force  which  the  creature  used  in  this  action  was 
derived  from  the  sun,  the  moon,  or  the  gas-works  at  Berne. 
What  was,  indeed,  a  matter  of  interest  to  me,  was  just  that 
which  would  have  struck  a  peasant,  or  a  child  ; — namely,  the 
calculating  wisdom  of  the  creature's  device  ;  and  the  exquisite 
grace,  strength,  and  precision  of  the  action  by  which  it  was 
accomplished. 

103.  I  was  interested  then,  I  say,  more  in  the  device  of  the 
creature,  than  in  its  source  of  motion.  Nevertheless,  I  am 
pleased  to  hear,  from  men  of  science,  how  necessarily  that 
motion  proceeds  from  the  sun.  But  where  did  its  device 
come  from  ?  There  is  no  wisdom,  no  device  in  the  dust,  any 
more  than  there  is  warmth  in  the  dust.    The  springing  of  the 


.    THE  EAGLE'S  NEST.  g$5 

serpent  is  from  the  sun  : — the  wisdom  of  the  serpent,— 
whence  that? 

104  From  the  sun  also,  is  the  only  answer,  I  suppose,  pos- 
sible to  physical  science.  It  is  not  a  false  answer  :  quite  true, 
like  the  other,  up  to  a  certain  point.  To-day,  in  the  strength 
of  your  youth,  you  may  know  what  it  is  to  have  the  power  of 
the  sun  taken  out  of  your  arms  and  legs.  But  when  you  are 
old,  you  will  know  what  it  is  to  have  the  power  of  the  sun 
taken  out  of  your  minds  also.  Such  a  thing  may  happen  to 
you,  sometimes,  even  now  ;  but  it  will  continually  happen  to 
you  when  you  are  my  age.  You  will  no  more,  then,  think  over 
a  matter  to  any  good  purpose  after  twelve  o'clock  in  the  day. 
It  may  be  possible  to  think  over,  and,  much  more,  to  talk 
over,  matters,  to  little,  or  to  bad,  purpose  after  twelve  o'clock 
in  the  day.  The  members  of  your  national  legislature  do 
their  work,  we  know,  by  gaslight ;  but  you  don't  suppose  the 
power  of  the  sun  is  in  any  of  their  devices  ?  Quite  seriously, 
ail  the  vital  functions, — and,  like  the  rest  and  with  the  rest, 
the  pure  and  wholesome  faculties  of  the  brain, — rise  and  set 
with  the  sun  :  your  digestion  and  intellect  are  alike  dependent 
on  its  beams ;  your  thoughts,  like  your  blood,  flow  from  the 
force  of  it,  in  all  scientific  accuracy  and  necessity.  Sol  illu- 
minatio  nostra  est  ;  Sol  saius  nostra  ;  Sol  sapientia  nostra. 

And  it  is  the  final  act  and  outcome  of  lowest  national  athe- 
ism, since  it  cannot  deny  the  sun,  at  least  to  strive  to  do 
without  it ;  to  blast  the  day  in  heaven  with  smoke,  and  pro- 
long the  dance,  and  the  council,  by  night,  with  tapers,  until 
at  last,  rejoicing— Dixit  insipiens  in  corcle  suo,  non  est  Sol. 

105.  Weil,  the  sliding  of  the  serpent,  and  the  device  of  the 
serpent,  we  admit,  come  from  the  sun.  The  flight  of  the 
dove,  and  its  harmlessness, — do  they  also  ? 

The  flight, — yes,  assuredly.  The  Innocence  ? — It  is  a  new 
question.  How  of  that  ?  Between  movement  and  non-move- 
ment— nay,  between  sense  and  non-sense — the  difference  rests, 
we  say,  in  the  power  of  Apollo  ;  but  between  malice  and  in- 
nocence, where  shall  we  find  the  root  of  that  distinction  ? 

106.  Have  you  ever  considered  how  much  literal  truth  there 
is  in  the  words—"  The  light  of  the  body  is  the  eye.   If,  there- 


366 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


fore,  thine  eye  be  evil " — and  the  rest  ?  How  com  the  eye  be 
evil  ?    How,  if  evil,  can  it  fill  the  whole  body  with  darkness  ? 

What  is  the  meaning  of  having  one's  body  full  of  darkness? 
It  cannot  mean  merely  being  blind.  Blind,  you  may  fall  in 
the  ditch  if  you  move  ;  but  you  may  be  well,  if  at  rest.  But 
to  be  evil-eyed,  is  not  that  worse  than  to  have  no  eyes  ?  and 
instead  of  being  only  in  darkness,  to  have  darkness  in  tiki 
portable,  perfect,  and  eternal  ? 

107.  Well,  in  order  to  get  at  the  meaning  we  may,  indeed, 
now  appeal  to  physical  science,  and  ask  her  to  help  us.  How 
many  manner  of  eyes  are  there  ?  You  physical-science  stu- 
dents should  be  able  to  tell  us  painters  that.  We  only  know, 
in  a  vague  way,  the  external  aspect  and  expression  of  eyes. 
We  see,  as  we  try  to  draw  the  endlessly-grotesque  creatures 
about  us,  what  infinite  variety  of  instruments  the}7  have ;  but 
you  know,  far  better  than  we  do,  how  those  instruments  are 
constructed  and  directed.  You  know  how  some  play  in  their 
sockets  with  independent  revolution, — project  into  near-sight- 
edness on  pyramids  of  bone, — are  brandished  at  the  points  of 
horns, — studded  over  backs  and  shoulders, — thrust  at  the 
ends  of  antennae  to  pioneer  for  the  head,  or  pinched  up  into 
tubercles  at  the  corners  of  the  lips.  But  how  do  the  creat- 
ures see  out  of  all  these  eyes  ? 

108.  No  business  of  ours,  you  may  think  ?  Pardon  me. 
This  is  no  Siren's  question — this  is  altogether  business  of 
ours,  lest,  perchance,  any  of  us  should  see  partly  in  the  same 
manner.  Comparative  sight  is  a  far  more  important  question 
than  comparative  anatomy.  It  is  no  matter,  though  we  some- 
times walk — and  it  may  often  be  desirable  to  climb — like 
apes  ;  but  suppose  we  should  only  see  like  apes,  or  like  lower 
creatures  ?  I  can  tell  you,  the  science  of  optics  is  an  essential 
one  to  us  ;  for,  exactly  according  to  these  infinitely  grotesque 
directions  and  multiplications  of  instrument,  you  have  corre- 
spondent, not  only  intellectual  but  moral,  faculty  in  the  soul 
of  the  creatures.  Literally,  if  the  eye  be  pure,  the  body  is 
pure  ;  but,  if  the  light  of  the  body  be  but  darkness,  how  great 
is  that  darkness ! 

109.  Have  you  ever  looked  attentively  at  the  study  I  gave 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


367 


you  of  the  head  of  the  rattlesnake  ?  The  serpent  will  keep  its 
eyes  fixed  on  you  for  an  hour  together,  a  vertical  slit  in  each 
admitting  such  image  of  you  as  is  possible  to  the  rattlesnake 
retina,  and  to  the  rattlesnake  mind.  How  much  of  you  do 
you  think  it  sees  ?  I  ask  that,  first,  as  a  pure  physical  ques- 
tion. I  do  not  know  :  it  is  not  my  business  to  know.  You, 
from  your  schools  of  physical  science,  should  bring  me  an- 
swer. How  much  of  a  man  can  a  snake  see  ?  What  sort  of 
image  of  him  is  received  through  that  deadly  vertical  cleft  in 
the  iris  ; — through  the  glazed  blue  of  the  ghastly  lens  ?  Make 
me  a  picture  of  the  appearance  of  a  man,  so  far  as  you  can 
judge  it  can  take  place  on  the  snake's  retina.  Then  ask  your- 
selves, farther,  how  much  of  speculation  is  possible  to  the 
snake,  touching  this  human  aspect  ? 

110.  Or,  if  that  seem  too  far  beneath  possible  inquiry,  how 
say  you  of  a  tiger's  eye,  or  a  cat's  ?  A  cat  may  look  at  a 
king  ; — yes  ;  but  can  it  see  a  king  when  it  looks  at  him  ?  The 
beasts  of  prey  never  seem  to  me  to  look,  in  our  sense,  at  all. 
Their  eyes  are  fascinated  by  the  motion  of  anything,  as  a  kit- 
ten's by  a  ball ;  they  fasten,  as  if  drawn  by  an  inevitable  at- 
traction, on  their  food.  But  when  a  cat  caresses  you,  it  never 
looks  at  you.  Its  heart  seems  to  be  in  its  back  and  paws,  not 
its  eyes.  It  will  rub  itself  against  you,  or  pat  you  with  velvet 
tufts  instead  of  talons  ;  but  you  may  talk  to  it  an  hour  to- 
gether, yet  not  rightly  catch  its  eye.  Ascend  higher  in  the 
races  of  being— to  the  fawn,  the  dog,  the  horse  ;  you  will  find 
that,  according  to  the  clearness  of  sight,  is  indeed  the  kind- 
ness of  sight,  and  that  at  least  the  noble  eyes  of  humanity 
look  through  humanity,  from  heart  into  heart,  and  with  no 
mechanical  vision.  And  the  Light  of  the  body  is  the  eye — 
yes,  and  in  happy  life,  the  light  of  the  heart  also. 

111.  But  now  note  farther :  there  is  a  mathematical  power 
in  the  eye  which  may  far  transcend  its  moral  power.  When 
the  moral  power  is  feeble,  the  faculty  of  measurement,  or  of 
distinct  delineation,  may  be  supreme ;  and  of  comprehension 
none.  But  here,  again,  I  want  the  help  of  the  physical  science 
schools.  I  believe  the  eagle  has  no  scent,  and  hunts  by  sight, 
yet  flies  higher  than  any  other  bird.    Now,  I  want  to  know 


3G8 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


what  the  appearance  is  to  an  eagle,  two  thousand  feet  up,  of 
a  sparrow  in  a  hedge,  or  of  a  partridge  in  a  stubble-field. 
What  kind  of  definition  on  the  retina  do  these  brown  spots 
take  to  manifest  themselves  as  signs  of  a  thing  eatable  ;  and 
if  an  eagle  sees  a  partridge  so,  does  it  see  everything  else  so  ? 
And  then  tell  me,  farther,  does  it  see  only  a  square  yard  at  a 
time,  and  yet,  as  it  flies,  take  summary  of  the  square  yards 
beneath  it  ?  When  next  you  are  travelling  by  express  sixty 
miles  an  hour,  past  a  grass  bank,  try  to  see  a  grasshopper, 
and  you  will  get  some  idea  of  an  eagle's  optical  business,  if  it 
takes  only  the  line  of  ground  underneath  it.  Does  it  take 
more  ? 

112.  Then,  besides  this  faculty  of  clear  vision,  you  have  to 
consider  the  faculty  of  metric  vision.  Neither  an  eagle,  nor 
a  kingfisher,  nor  any  other  darting  bird,  can  see  things  with 
both  their  eyes  at  the  same  time  as  completely  as  you  and  I 
can  ;  bat  think  of  their  faculty  of  measurement  as  compared 
with  ours  !  You  will  find  that  it  takes  you  months  of  labour 
before  you  can  acquire  accurate  power,  even  of  deliberate  es- 
timate of  distances  with  the  eye  ;  it  is  one  of  the  points  to 
which,  most  of  all,  I  have  to  direct  your  work.  And  the  curi- 
ous thing  is  that,  given  the  degree  of  practice,  you  will  meas- 
ure ill  or  well  with  the  eye  in  proportion  to  the  quantity  of  life 
in  you.  No  one  can  measure  with  a  glance,  when  they  are 
tired.  Only  the  other  day  I  got  half  an  inch  out  on  a  foot, 
in  drawing  merely  a  coat  of  arms,  because  I  was  tired.  But 
fancy  what  would  happen  to  a  swallow,  if  it  was  half  an  inch 
out  in  a  foot,  in  flying  round  a  corner ! 

113.  Well,  that  is  the  first  branch  of  the  questions  which 
we  want  answered  by  optical  science  ; — the  actual  distortion, 
contraction,  and  other  modification,  of  the  sight  of  different 
animals,  as  far  as  it  can  be  known  from  the  forms  of  their  eyes. 
Then,  secondly,  we  ourselves  need  to  be  taught  the  connec- 
tion of  the  sense  of  colour  with  health  ;  the  difference  in  the 
physical  conditions  which  lead  us  to  seek  for  gloom,  or  bright- 
ness of  hue  ;  and  the  nature  of  purity  in  colour,  first  in  the 

object  seen,  and  then  in  the  eye  which  prefers  it. 

*  *  #  *  * 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


363 


(The  portion  of  lecture  here  omitted  referred  to  illlustra- 
tions  of  vulgarity  and  delicacy  in  colour,  showing  that  the  vul- 
gar colours,  even  when  they  seemed  most  glaring,  w-ere  in 
reality  impure  and  dull  ;  and  destroyed  each  other  by  con- 
tention ;  while  noble  colour,  intensely  bright  and  pure,  was 
nevertheless  entirely  governed  and  calm,  so  that  every  colour 
bettered  and  aided  all  the  rest.) 

114  You  recollect  how  I  urged  you  in  my  opening  course 
of  lectures  rather  to  work  in  the  school  of  crystalline  colour 
than  in  that  of  shade. 

Since  I  gave  that  first  course  of  lectures,  my  sense  of  the 
necessity  of  this  study  of  brightness  primarily,  and  of  purity 
and  gaiety  beyond  all  other  qualities,  has  deeply  been  con- 
firmed by  the  influence  which  the  unclean  horror  and  impious 
melancholy  of  the  modern  French  school — most  literally  the 
school  of  death — has  gained  over  the  popular  mind.  I  will 
not  dwell  upon  the  evil  phrenzy  to-day.  But  it  is  in  order  at 
once  to  do  the  best  I  can,  in  counteraction  of  its  deadly  in- 
fluence, though  not  without  other  and  constant  reasons,  that 
I  give  you  heraldry,  with  all  its  splendour  and  its  pride,  its 
brightness  of  colour,  and  honourableness  of  meaning,  for 
your  main  elementary  practice. 

115.  To-day  I  have  only  time  left  to  press  on  your  thoughts 
the  deeper  law  of  this  due  joy  in  colour  and  light. 

On  any  morning  of  the  year,  how  many  pious  supplications, 
do  you  suppose,  are  uttered  throughout  educated  Europe  for 
"light?"  How  many  lips  at  least  pronounce  the  word,  and, 
perhaps,  in  the  plurality  of  instances,  with  some  distinct  idea 
attached  to  it  ?  It  is  true  the  speakers  employ  it  only  as  a 
metaphor.  But  why  is  their  language  thus  metaphorical? 
If  they  mean  merely  to  ask  for  spiritual  knowledge  or  guid- 
ance, why  not  say  so  plainly  instead  of  using  this  jaded 
figure  of  speech  ?  No  boy  goes  to  his  father  when  he  wants 
to  be  taught,  or  helped,  and  asks  his  father  to  give  him 
'light.' 

He  asks  what  he  wants,  advice  or  protection.  Why  are  not 
we  also  content  to  ask  our  Father  for  what  we  want,  in  plain 
English? 


370 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


The  metaphor,  you  will  answer,  is  put  into  our  mouths,  and 
felt  to  be  a  beautiful  and  necessary  one. 

I  admit  it.  In  your  educational  series,  first  of  all  examples 
of  iriodern  art,  is  the  best  engraving  I  could  find  of  the  pict- 
ure which,  founded  on  that  idea  of  Christ's  being  the  Giver 
of  Light,  contains,  I  believe,  the  most  true  and  useful  piece 
of  religious  vision  which  realistic  art  has  yet  embodied.  But 
why  is  the  metaphor  so  necessary,  or,  rather,  how  far  is  it  a 
metaphor  at  all  ?  Do  you  think  the  words  '  Light  of  the 
"World  '  mean  only  '  Teacher  or  Guide  of  the  World  ?  •  When 
the  Sun  of  Justice  is  said  to  rise  with  health  in  its  wings,  do 
you  suppose  the  image  only  means  the  correction  of  error  ? 
Or  does  it  even  mean  so  much?  The  Light  of  Heaven  is 
needed  to  do  that  perfectly.  But  what  we  are  to  pray  for  is 
the  Light  of  the  World  ;  nay,  the  Light  "that  lighteth  every 
man  that  cometh  into  the  ivorld-." 

116.  You  will  find  that  it  is  no  metaphor — nor  has  it  ever 
been  so. 

To  the  Persian,  the  Greek,  and  the  Christian,  the  sense  of 
the  power  of  the  God  of  Light,  has  been  one  and  the  same. 
That  power  is  not  merely  in  teaching  or  protecting,  but  in 
the  enforcement  of  purity  of  body,  and  of  equity  or  justice  in 
the  heart ;  and  this,  observe,  not  heavenly  purity,  nor  final 
justice  ;  but,  now,  and  here,  actual  purity  in  the  midst  of  the 
worlds  foulness, — practical  justice  in  the  midst  of  the  world's 
iniquity.  And  the  physical  strength  of  the  organ  of  sight, — 
the  physical  purity  of  the  flesh,  the  actual  love  of  sweet  light 
and  stainless  colour, — are  the  necessary  signs,  real,  inevitable, 
and  visible,  of  the  prevailing  presence,  with  any  nation,  or  in 
any  house,  of  the  ' 'Light  that  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh 
into  the  world." 

117.  Physical  purity  ; — actual  love  of  sweet  light,  and  of  fair 
colour.  This  is  one  palpable  sign,  and  an  entirely  needful  one, 
that  we  have  got  what  we  pretend  to  pray  for  every  morning. 
That,  you  will  find,  is  the  meaning  of  Apollo's  war  with  the 
Python— of  your  own  St.  George's  war  with  the  dragon.  You 
have  got  that  battle  stamped  again  on  every  sovereign  in  your 
pockets,  but  do  you  think  the  sovereigns  are  helping,  at  this 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


371 


instant,  St.  George  in  his  battle  ?  Once,  on  your  gold  of  the 
Henrys'  times,  you  had  St.  Michael  and  the  dragon,  and  called 
your  coins  '  angels.'  How  much  have  they  done  lately,  of  an- 
gelic work,  think  you,  in  purifying  the  earth  ? 

118.  Purifying,  literally,  purging  and  cleansing.  That  is  the 
first  "  sacred  art "  all  men  have  to  learn.  And  the  words  I  de- 
ferred to  the  close  of  this  lecture,  about  the  proposed  improve- 
ments in  Oxford,  are  very  few.  Oxford  is,  indeed,  capable  of 
much  improvement,  but  only  by  undoing  the  greater  part  of 
what  has  been  done  to  it  within  the  last  twenty  years  ;  and, 
at  present,  the  one  thing  that  I  would  say  to  well-meaning 
persons  is,  'For  Heaven's  sake — literally  for  Heaven's  sake — 
let  the  place  alone,  and  clean  it.'  I  walked  last  week  to  Iffley 
— not  having  been  there  for  thirty  years.  I  did  not  know  the 
church  inside  ;  I  found  it  pitch-dark  with  painted  glass  of 
barbarous  manufacture,  and  the  old  woman  who  showed  it 
infinitely  proud  of  letting  me  in  at  the  front  door  instead  of 
the  side  one.  But  close  by  it,  not  fifty  yards  down  the  hill, 
there  was  a  little  well — a  holy  well  it  should  have  been  ;  beauti- 
ful in  the  recess  of  it,  and  the  lovely  ivy  and  weeds  above  it, 
had  it  but  been  cared  for  in  a  human  way  ;  but  so  full  of  frogs 
that  you  could  not  have  dipped  a  cup  in  it  without  catching 
one. 

What  is  the  use  of  pretty  painted  glass  in  your  churches 
when  you  have  the  plagues  of  Egypt  outside  of  them  ? 

119.  I  walked  back  from  Iffley  to  Oxford  by  what  was  once 
the  most  beautiful  approach  to  an  academical  city  of  any  in 
Europe.  Now  it  is  a  wilderness  of  obscure  and  base  build- 
ings. You  think  it  a  fine  thing  to  go  into  Ifiiey  church  by 
the  front  door  ; — and  you  build  cheap  lodging-houses  over 
all  the  approach  to  the  chief  university  of  English  literature  ! 
That,  forsooth,  is  your  luminous  cloister,  and  porch  of  Polyg- 
notus  to  your  temple  of  Apollo.  And  in  the  centre  of  that 
temple,  at  the  very  foot  of  the  dome  of  the  Eadclyffe,  be- 
tween two  principal  colleges,  the  lane  by  which  I  walked  from 
my  own  college  half  an  hour  ago,  to  this  place, — Brasen-nose 
Lane, — is  left  in  a  state  as  loathsome  as  a  back-alley  in  the 
East  end  of  London. 


37k 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


120.  These,  I  suppose  are  the  signs  of  extending  liberality, 
and  disseminated  advantages  of  education. 

Gentlemen,  if,  as  was  lately  said  by  a  leading  member  of 
your  Government,  the  function  of  a  university  be  only  to  ex- 
amine, it  may  indeed  examine  the  whole  mob  of  England  in 
the  midst  of  a  dunghill  ;  but  it  cannot  teach  the  gentlemen 
of  England  in  the  midst  of  a  dunghill ;  no,  nor  even  the  peo- 
ple of  England.  How  many  of  her  people  it  ought  to  teach 
is  a  question.  We  think,  now-a-days,  our  philosophy  is  to 
light  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world,  and  to  light  every 
man  equally.  Well,  when  indeed  you  give  up  all  other  com- 
merce in  this  island,  and,  as  in  Bacon's  New  Atlantis,  only  buy 
and  sell  to  get  God's  first  creature,  which  was  light,  there 
may  be  some  equality  of  gain  for  us  in  that  possession.  But 
until  then, — and  we  are  very  far  from  such  a  time, — the  light 
cannot  be  given  to  all  men  equally.  Nay,  it  is  becoming 
questionable  whether,  instead  of  being  equally  distributed  to 
all,  it  may  not  be  equally  withdrawn  from  us  all :  whether  the 
ideas  of  purity  and  justice, — of  loveliness  which  is  to  sanctify 
our  peace, — and  of  justice  which  is  to  sanctify  our  battle,  are 
not  vanishing  from  the  purpose  of  our  policy,  and  even  from 
the  conception  of  our  education. 

The  uses,  and  the  desire,  of  seclusion,  of  meditation,  of  re- 
straint, and  of  correction — are  they  not  passing  from  us  in 
the  collision  of  worldly  interests,  and  restless  contests  of  mean 
hope,  and  meaner  fear  ?  What  light,  what  health,  what  peace, 
or  what  security, — youths  of  England — do  you  come  here 
now  to  seek  ?  In  what  sense  do  you  receive— with  what  sin- 
cerity do  you  adopt  for  yourselves — the  ancient  legend  of  your 
schools,  "Dominus  illuminatio  mea,  et  salus  mea ;  quern 
timebo  ?  " 

121.  Bemember  that  the  ancient  theory  on  which  this  uni- 
versity was  founded, — not  the  theory  of  any  one  founder,  ob- 
serve, nor  even  the  concluded  or  expressed  issue  of  the  wis- 
dom of  many  ;  but  the  tacit  feeling  by  which  the  work  and 
hope  of  all  were  united  and  completed — was,  that  England 
should  gather  from  among  her  children  a  certain  number  of 
purest  and  best,  whom  she  might  train  to  become,  each  in 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


373 


their  day  of  strength,  her  teachers  and  patterns  in  religion, 
her  declarers  and  doers  of  justice  in  law,  and  her  leaders  in 
battle.  Bred,  it  might  be,  by  their  parents,  in  the  fond  pov« 
erty  of  learning,  or  amidst  the  traditions  and  discipline  of  il- 
lustrious houses, — in  either  manner  separate,  from  their  youth 
up,  to  their  glorious  offices — they  came  here  to  be  kindled 
into  the  lights  that  were  to  be  set  on  the  hills  of  England, 
brightest  of  the  pious,  the  loyal,  and  the  brave.  Whatever 
corruption  blighted,  whatever  worldliness  buried,  whatever 
sin  polluted  their  endeavour,  this  conception  of  its  meaning 
remained  ;  and  was  indeed  so  fulfilled  in  faithfulness,  that  to 
the  men  whose  passions  were  tempered,  and  whose  hearts 
confirmed,  in  the  calm  of  these  holy  places,  you,  now  living, 
owe  all  that  is  left  to  you  of  hope  in  heaven,  and  all  of  safety 
or  honour  that  you  have  to  trust  and  defend  on  earth. 

Their  children  have  forfeited,  some  by  guilt,  and  many  in 
folly,  the  leadership  they  inherited ;  and  every  man  in  Eng- 
land now  is  to  do  and  to  learn  what  is  right  in  his  own  eyes. 
How  much  need,  therefore,  that  we  should  learn  first  of  all 
what  eyes  are  ;  and  what  vision  they  ought  to  possess — science 
of  sight  granted  only  to  clearness  of  soul  ;  but  granted  in  its 
fulness  even  to  mortal  eyes  :  for  though,  after  the  skin,  worms 
may  destroy  their  body,  happy  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they, 
yet  in  their  flesh,  shall  see  the  Light  of  Heaven,  and  know 
the  will  of  God. 


LECTURE  VH. 

THE  RELATION  TO  ART  OF  THE  SCIENCES  OF  INORGANIC 
FORM. 

February  29th,  1872. 

122.  I  did  not  wish  in  my  last  lecture,  after  I  had  directed 
your  attention  to  the  special  bearing  of  some  of  the  principles 
I  pleaded  for,  to  enforce  upon  you  any  farther  general  conclu- 
sions. But  it  is  necessary  now  to  collect  the  gist  of  what  I  en- 
deavoured to  show  you  respecting  the  organs  of  sight ;  namely, 


374 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


that  in  proportion  to  the  physical  perfectness  or  clearness  of 
thern  is  the  degree  in  which  they  are  raised  from  the  percep- 
tion of  prey  to  the  perception  of  beauty  and  of  affection.  The 
imperfect  and  brutal  instrument  of  the  eye  may  be  vivid  with 
malignity,  or  wild  with  hunger,  or  manifoldly  detective  with 
microscopic  exaggeration,  assisting  the  ingenuity  of  insects 
with  a  multiplied  and  permanent  monstrosity  of  all  things 
round  them  ;  but  the  noble  human  sight,  careless  of  prey, 
disdainful  of  minuteness,  and  reluctant  to  anger,  becomes 
clear  in  gentleness,  proud  in  reverence,  and  joyful  in  love. 
And  finally,  the  physical  splendour  of  light  and  colour,  so  far 
from  being  the  perception  of  a  mechanical  force  by  a  mechani- 
cal instrument,  is  an  entirely  spiritual  consciousness,  accu- 
rately and  absolutely  proportioned  to  the  purity  of  the  moral 
nature,  and  to  the  force  of  its  natural  and  wise  affections. 

123.  That  was  the  sum  of  what  I  wished  to  show  you  in 
my  last  lecture  ;  and  observe,  that  what  remains  to  me  doubt- 
ful in  these  things. — and  it  is  much — I  do  not  trouble  you 
With'.  Only  what  I  know  that  on  experiment  you  can  ascer- 
tain for  yourselves,  I  tell  you,  and  illustrate,  for  the  time,  as 
well  as  I  can.  Experiments  in  art  are  difficult,  and  take  years 
to  try  ;  you  may  at  first  fail  in  them,  as  you  might  in  a  chemi- 
cal analysis  ;  but  in  all  the  matters  which  in  this  place  I  shall 
urge  on  your  attention  I  can  assure  you  of  the  final  results. 

That,  then,  being  the  sum  of  what  I  could  tell  you  with 
certainty  respecting  the  methods  of  sight,  I  have  next  to  assure 
you  that  this  faculty  of  sight,  disciplined  and  pure,  is  the 
only  proper  faculty  which  the  graphic  artist  is  to  use  in  his 
inquiries  into  nature.  His  office  is  to  show  her  appearances  ; 
his  duty  is  to  know  them.  It  is  not  his  duty,  though  it  may 
be  sometimes  for  his  convenience,  while  it  is  always  at  his 
peril,  that  he  knows  more  ; — knows  the  causes  of  appearances, 
or  the  essence  of  the  things  that  produce  them. 

124.  Once  again,  therefore,  I  must  limit  my  application  of 
the  word  science  with  respect  to  art.  I  told  you  that  I  did 
not  mean  by  'science'  such  knowledge  as  that  triangles  on 
equal  bases  and  between  parallels  are  equal,  but  such  knowl- 
edge as  that  the  stars  in  Cassiopeia  are  in  the  form  of  a  W. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


375 


But,  farther  still,  it  is  not  to  be  considered  as  science,  for  an 
artist,  that  they  are  stars  at  all.  What  he  has  to  know  is  that 
they  are  luminous  points  which  twinkle  in  a  certain  mariner, 
and  are  pale  yellow,  or  deep  yellow,  and  may  be  quite  decep- 
tively imitated  at  a  certain  distance  by  brass-headed  nails. 
This  he  ought  to  know,  and  to  remember  accurately,  and  his 
art  knowledge — the  science,  that  is  to  say — of  which  his  art 
is  to  be  the  reflection,  is  the  sum  of  knowledges  of  this  sort ; 
his  memory  of  the  look  of  the  sun  and  moon  at  such  and  such 
times,  through  such  and  such  clouds  ;  his  memory  of  the  look 
of  mountains, — of  the  look  of  sea, — of  the  look  of  human  faces. 

125.  Perhaps  you  would  not  call  that  '  science  '  at  all.  It 
is  no  matter  what  either  you  or  I  call  it.  It  is  science  of  a 
certain  order  of  facts.  Two  summers  ago,  looking  from  Verona 
at  sunset,  I  saw  the  mountains  beyond  the  Lago  di  Garda  of 
a  strange  blue,  vivid  and  rich  like  the  bloom  of  a  damson.  I 
never  saw  a  mountain-blue  of  that  particular  quality  before 
or  since.  My  science  as  an  artist  consists  in  my  knowing  that 
sort  of  blue  from  every  other  sort,  and  in  my  perfect  recollec- 
tion that  this  particular  blue  had  such  and  such  a  green  asso- 
ciated with  it  in  the  near  fields.  I  have  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  the  atmospheric  causes  of  the  colour  :  that  knowledge 
would  merely  occupy  my  brains  wastefully,  and  warp  my  ar- 
tistic attention  and  energy  from  their  point.  Or  to  take  a 
simpler  instance  yet :  Turner,  in  his  early  life,  was  sometimes 
good-natured,  and  would  show  people  what  he  was  about. 
He  was  one  day  making  a  drawing  of  Plymouth  harbour,  with 
some  ships  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  or  two,  seen  against  the 
light.  Having  shown  this  drawing  to  a  naval  officer,  the  naval 
officer  observed  with  surprise,  and  objected  with  very  justi- 
fiable indignation,  that  the  ships  of  the  line  had  no  port-holes. 
"No,"  said  Turner,  4 4  certainly  not.  If  you  will  walk  up  to 
Mount  Edgecumbe,  and  look  at  the  ships  against  the  sunset, 
you  will  find  you  can't  see  the  port-holes."  "  Well,  but,"  said 
the  naval  officer,  still  indignant,  "  you  know  the  port-holes 
are  there."  "  Yes,"  said  Turner,  "  I  know  that  well  enough  ; 
but  my  business  is  to  draw  what  I  see,  and  not  what  I  know 
is  there." 


376 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


126.  Now,  that  is  the  law  of  all  fine  artistic  work  whatso* 
ever  ;  and,  more  than  that,  it  is,  on  the  whole,  perilous  to  yon, 
and  undesirable,  that  you  should  know  what  is  there.  If,  in- 
deed, you  have  so  perfectly  disciplined  your  sight  that  it  can- 
not be  influenced  by  prejudice  ; — if  you  are  sure  that  none  of 
your  knowledge  of  what  is  there  will  be  allowed  to  assert  it- 
self ;  and  that  you  can  reflect  the  ship  as  simply  as  the  sea 
beneath  it  does,  though  you  may  know  it  with  the  intelligence 
of  a  sailor, — then,  indeed,  you  may  allow  yourself  the  pleas- 
ure, and  what  will  sometimes  be  the  safeguard  from  error, 
of  learning  what  ships,  or  stars,  or  mountains,  are  in  reality ; 
but  the  ordinary  powers  of  human  perception  are  almost  cer- 
tain to  be  disturbed  by  the  knowledge  of  the  real  nature  of 
what  they  draw :  and,  until  you  are  quite  fearless  of  your 
faithfulness  to  the  appearances  of  things,  the  less  you  know 
of  their  reality  the  better. 

127.  And  it  is  precisely  in  this  passive  and  naive  simplicity 
that  art  becomes,  not  only  greatest  in  herself,  but  most  useful 
to  science.  If  she  knew  anything  of  what  she  was  represent- 
ing, she  would  exhibit  that  partial  knowledge  with  compla- 
cency ;  and  miss  the  points  beside  it,  and  beyond  it.  Two 
painters  draw  the  same  mountain  ;  the  one  has  got  unluckily 
into  his  head  some  curiosity  about  glacier  marking  ;  and  the 
other  has  a  theory  of  cleavage.  The  one  will  scratch  his 
mountain  all  over  ; — the  other  split  it  to  pieces  ;  and  both 
drawings  will  be  equally  useless  for  the  purposes  of  honest 
science. 

128.  Any  of  you  who  chance  to  know  my  books  cannot  but 
be  surprised  at  my  saying  these  things  ;  for,  of  all  writers  on 
art,  I  suppose  there  is  no  one  who  appeals  so  often  as  I  do  to 
physical  science.  But  observe,  I  appeal  as  a  critic  of  art, 
never  as  a  master  of  it.  Turner  made  drawings  of  mountains 
and  clouds  which  the  public  said  were  absurd.  I  said,  on  the 
contrary,  they  were  the  only  true  drawings  of  mountains  and 
clouds  ever  made  yet :  and  I  proved  this  to  be  so,  as  only  it 
could  be  proved,  by  steady  test  of  physical  science  :  but 
Turner  had  drawn  his  mountains  rightly,  long  before  their 
firucture  was  known  to  any  geologist  in  Europe ;  and  has 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


377 


painted  perfectly  truths  of  anatomy  in  clouds  which  I  chal- 
lenge  any  meteorologist  in  Europe  to  explain  at  this  day. 

129.  And  indeed  I  was  obliged  to  leave  Modern  Painters 
incomplete,  or,  rather,  as  a  mere  sketch  of  intention,  in  anal- 
ysis of  the  forms  of  cloud  and  wave,  because  I  had  not  scien- 
tific data  enough  to  appeal  to.  Just  reflect  for  an  instant  how 
absolutely  whatever  has  been  done  in  art  to  represent  these 
most  familiar,  yet  most  spectral  forms  of  cloud — utterly  inor- 
ganic, yet,  by  spiritual  ordinance,  in  their  kindness  fair,  and  in 
their  anger  frightful, — how  all  that  has  yet  been  done  to  rep- 
resent them,  from  the  undulating  bands  of  blue  and  white  which 
give  to  heraldry  its  nebule  bearing,  to  the  finished  and  decep- 
tive skies  of  Turner,  has  been  done  without  one  syllable  of 
help  from  the  lips  of  science.* 

130.  The  rain  which  flooded  pur  fields  the  Sunday  before 
last,  was  followed,  as  you  will  remember,  by  bright  days,  of 
which  Tuesday  the  20th  was,  in  London,  notable  for  the 
splendour,  towards  the  afternoon,  of  its  white  cumulus  clouds. 
There  has  been  so  much  black  east  wind  lately,  and  so  much 
fog  and  artificial  gloom,  besides,  that  I  find  it  is  actually  some 
two  years  since  I  last  saw  a  noble  cumulus  cloud  under  full 
light.  I  chanced  to  be  standing  under  the  Victoria  Tower  at 
Westminster,  when  the  largest  mass  of  them  floated  past,  that 
day,  from  the  north-west ;  and  I  was  more  impressed  than 
ever  yet  by  the  awfulness  of  the  cloud-form,  and  its  unac- 
countableness,  in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge.  The 
Victoria  Tower,  seen  against  it,  had  no  magnitude  :  it  was 
like  looking  at  Mont  Blanc  over  a  lamp-post.  The  domes  of 
cloud-snow  were  heaped  as  definitely ;  their  broken  flanks 
were  as  grey  and  firm  as  rocks,  and  the  whole  mountain,  of  a 
compass  and  height  in  heaven  which  only  became  more  and 

♦Rubens'  rainbow,  in  the  Loan  Exhibition  this  year,  was  of  dull 
blue,  darker  than  the  sky,  in  a  scene  lighted  from  the  side  of  the  rain- 
bow. Rubens  is  not  to  be  blamed  for  ignorance  of  optics,  but  for  never 
having  so  much  as  looked  at  a  rainbow  carefully  :  and  I  do  not  believe 
that  my  friend  Mr.  Alfred  Hunt,  whose  study  of  rainbow,  in  the  rooms 
of  the  Water  Colour  Society  last  year,  was  unrivalled,  for  vividness  and 
truth,  by  any  I  know,  learned  how  to  paint  it  by  studying  optics. 


378 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


more  inconceivable  as  the  eye  strove  to  ascend  it,  was  passing 
behind  the  tower  with  a  steady  march,  whose  swiftness  must 
in  reality  have  been  that  of  a  tempest :  yet,  along  all  the  ra- 
vines of  vapour,  precipice  kept  pace  with  precipice,  and  not 
one  thrust  another. 

131.  What  is  it  that  hews  them  out?  Why  is  the  blue 
sky  pure  there, — cloud  solid  here  ;  and  edged  like  marble  : 
and  why  does  the  state  of  the  blue  sky  pass  into  the  state  of 
cloud,  in  that  calm  advance  ? 

It  is  true  that  you  can  more  or  less  imitate  the  forms  of 
cloud  with  explosive  vapour  or  steam  ;  but  the  steam  melts 
instantly,  and  the  explosive  vapor  dissipates  itself.  The  cloud, 
of  perfect  form,  proceeds  unchanged.  It  is  not  an  explosion, 
but  an  enduring  and  advancing  presence.  The  more  you 
think  of  it,  the  less  explicable  it  will  become  to  you. 

132.  That  this  should  yet  be  unexplained  in  the  kingdom  of 
the  air  is,  however,  no  marvel,  since  aspects  of  a  simpler  kind 
are  unexplained  in  the  earth,  which  we  tread,  and  in  the 
water  which  we  drink  and  wash  with.  You  seldom  pass  a 
day  without  receiving  some  pleasure  from  the  cloudings  in 
marble  ;  can  you  explain  how  the  stone  was  clouded  ?  You 
certainly  do  not  pass  a  day  without  washing  your  hands. 
Can  you  explain  the  frame  of  a  soap-bubble  ? 

133.  I  have  allowed  myself,  by  way  of  showing  at  once 
what  I  wanted  to  come  to,  to  overlook  the  proper  arrange- 
ment  of  my  subject,  and  I  must  draw  back  a  little. 

For  all  his  own  purposes,  merely  graphic,  we  say,  if  an  art-, 
ist's  eye  is  fine  and  faithful,  the  fewer  points  of  science  he  has 
in  his  head,  the  better.  But  for  purposes  more  than  graphic, 
in  order  that  he  may  feel  towards  things  as  he  should,  and 
choose  them  as  we  should,  he  ought  to  know  something  about 
them  ;  and  if  he  is  quite  sure  that  he  can  receive  the  science 
of  them  without  letting  himself  become  uncandid  and  narrow 
in  observation,  it  is  very  desirable  that  he  should  be  acquaint- 
ed with  a  little  of  the  alphabet  of  structure, — just  as  much  as 
may  quicken  and  certify  his  observation,  without  prejudicing 
it.  Cautiously,  therefore,  and  receiving  it  as  a  perilous  in* 
clulgence,  he  may  venture  to  learn,  perhaps,  as  much  astron- 


THE  EAGLE S  NEST,  379 


oniy  as  may  prevent  his  carelessly  putting  the  new  moon 
wrong  side  upwards  ;  and  as  much  botany  as  will  prevent  him 
from  confusing,  which  I  am  sorry  to  say  Turner  did,  too 
often,  Scotch  firs  with  stone  pines.  He  may  concede  so  much 
to  geology  as  to  choose,  of  two  equally  picturesque  views,  one 
that  illustrates  rather  than  conceals  the  structure  of  a  crag  : 
and  perhaps,  once  or  twice  in  his  life,  a  portrait  painter  might 
advantageously  observe  how  unlike  a  skull  is  to  a  face.  And 
for  you,  who  are  to  use  your  drawing  as  one  element  in  gen- 
eral education,  it  is  desirable  that  physical  science  should  as- 
sist in  the  attainment  of  truth  which  a  real  painter  seizes  by 
practice  of  eye. 

134.  For  this  purpose  I  shall  appeal  to  your  masters  in 
science  to  furnish  us,  as  they  have  leisure,  with  some  simple 
and  readable  accounts  of  the  structure  of  things  which  we 
have  to  draw  continually.  Such  scientific  accounts  will  not 
usually  much  help  us  to  draw  them,  but  will  make  the  draw- 
ing, when  done,  far  more  valuable  to  us. 

I  have  told  you,  for  instance,  that  nobody — at  least,  no 
painter — can  at  present  explain  the  structure  of  a  bubble. 
To  know  that  structure  will  not  help  you  to  draw  sea-foam, 
but  it  will  make  you  look  at  sea-foam  with  greater  interest. 

I  am  not  able  now  to  watch  the  course  of  modern  science, 
and  may  perhaps  be  in  error  in  thinking  that  the  frame  of  a 
bubble  is  still  unexplained.  But  I  have  not  yet  met  by  any 
chance,  with  an  account  of  the  forces  which,  under  concussion, 
arrange  the  particles  of  a  fluid  into  a  globular  film  ;  though, 
from  what  I  know  of  cohesion,  gravity,  and  the  nature  of  the 
atmosphere,  I  can  make  some  shift  to  guess  at  the  kind  of 
action  that  takes  place  in  forming  a  single  bubble.  But  how 
one  bubble  absorbs  another  without  breaking  it ;  or  what 
exact  methods  of  tension  prepare  for  the  change  of  form,  and 
establish  it  in  an  instant,  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss  to  conceive. 

Here,  I  think,  then,  is  one  familiar  matter  which,  up  to  the 
possible  point,  science  might  condescendingly  interpret  for 
us.  The  exhaustion  of  the  film  in  preparation  for  its  change  ; 
the  determination  of  the  smaller  bubble  to  yield  itself  up  to 
the  larger  ;  the  instantaneous  flash  into  the  new  shape,  and  the 


880 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


swift  adjustment  of  the  rectangular  lines  of  intersection  in  the 
marvellous  vaulting — all  this  I  want  to  be  explained  to  us,  so 
that,  if  we  cannot  understand  it  altogether,  we  may  at  least 
know  exactly  how  far  we  do,  and  how  far  we  do  nof. 

135.  And,  next  to  the  laws  of  the  formation  of  a  bubble,  I 
want  to  see,  in  simple  statement,  those  of  the  formation  of  a 
bottle.  Namely,  the  laws  of  its  resistance  to  fracture,  from 
without  and  within,  by  concussion  or  explosion  ;  and  the  due 
relations  of  form  to  thickness  of  material ;  so  that,  putting 
the  problem  in  a  constant  form,  we  may  know,  out  of  a  given 
quantity  of  material,  how  to  make  the  strongest  bottle  under 
given  limitations  as  to  shape.  For  instance, — you  have  so 
much  glass  given  you :  your  bottle  is  to  hold  two  pints,  to  be 
flat-bottomed,  and  so  narrow  and  long  in  the  neck  that  you 
can  grasp  it  with  your  hand.  What  will  be  its  best  ultimate 
form  ? 

136.  Probably,  if  you  thought  it  courteous,  you  would 
laugh  at  me  just  now  ;  and,  at  any  rate,  are  thinking  to  your- 
selves that  this  art  problem  at  least  needs  no  scientific  investi- 
gation, having  been  practically  solved,  long  ago,  by  the  im- 
perative human  instinct  for  the  preservation  of  bottled  stout. 
But  you  are  only  feeling  now,  gentlemen,  and  recognizing  in 
one  instance,  what  I  tell  you  of  all.  Every  scientific  investi- 
gation is,  in  the  same  sense  as  this  would  be,  useless  to  the 
trained  master  of  any  art.  To  the  soap-bubble  blower,  and 
glass-blower, — to  the  pot-maker  and  bottle-maker,— if  dex- 
terous craftsmen,  jour  science  is  of  no  account  ;  and  the  imp 
of  their  art  may  be  imagined  as  always  looking  triumphantly 
and  contemptuously,  out  of  its  successfully-produced  bottle, 
on  the  vain  analysis  of  centrifugal  impulse  and  inflating 
breath. 

137.  Nevertheless,  in  the  present  confusion  of  instinct  and 
opinion  as  to  beautiful  form,  it  is  desirable  to  have  these  two 
questions  more  accurately  dealt  with.  For  observe  what  they 
branch  into.  The  coloured  segments  of  globe  out  of  which 
form  is  constituted,  are  portions  of  spherical  vaults  constructed 
of  fluent  particles.  You  cannot  have  the  principles  of  spheri- 
cal vaulting  put  in  more  abstract  terms. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


381 


Then  considering  the  arch  as  the  section  of  a  vault,  the 
greater  number  of  Gothic  arches  may  be  regarded  as  the  in- 
tersections of  two  spherical  vaults. 

Simple  Gothic  foliation  is  merely  the  triple,  quadruple,  or 
variously  multiple  repetition  of  such  intersection. 

And  the  beauty — (observe  this  carefully) — the  beauty  of 
Gothic  arches,  and  of  their  foliation,  always  involves  reference 
to  the  strength  of  their  structure  ;  but  only  to  their  structure 
as  self-sustaining ;  not  as  sustaining  superincumbent  weight. 
In  the  most  literal  of  senses,  "the  earth  hath  bubbles  as  the 
water  hath  ;  and  these  are  of  them." 

138.  What  do  you  think  made  Michael  Angelo  look  back  to 
the  dome  of  Santa  Maria  del  Fiore,  saying,  "  Like  thee  I  will 
not  build  one,  better  than  thee  I  cannot  ?  "  To  you  or  to  me 
there  is  nothing  in  that  dome  different  from  hundreds  of 
others.  Which  of  you,  who  have  been  at  Florence,  can  tell 
.me  honestly  he  saw  anything  wonderful  in  it  ?  But  Michael 
Angelo  knew  the  exact  proportion  of  thickness  to  weight  and 
curvature  which  enabled  it  to  stand  as  securely  as  a  mountain 
of  adamant,  though  it  was  only  a  film  of  clay,  as  frail,  in  pro- 
portion to  its  bulk,  as  a  sea-shell.  Over  the  massy  war 
towers  of  the  city  it  floated  ;  fragile,  yet  without  fear.  "Bet- 
ter than  thee  I  cannot." 

139.  Then  think  what  the  investigation  of  the  bottle 
branches  into,  joined  with  that  of  its  necessary  companion, 
the  cup.  There  is  a  sketch  for  you  of  the  cup  of  cups,  the 
pure  Greek  KavOapos,  which  is  always  in  the  hand  of  Dion- 
usos,  as  the  thunderbolt  is  in  that  of  Zeus.  Learn  but  to 
draw  that  thoroughly,  and  you  won't  have  much  more  to 
learn  of  abstract  form  ;  for  the  investigation  of  the  kinds  of 
line  that  limit  this  will  lead  you  into  all  the  practical  geome- 
try of  nature  ;  the  ellipses  of  her  sea-bays  in  perspective ;  the 
parabolas  of  her  waterfalls  and  fountains  in  profile  ;  the 
catenary  curves  of  their  falling  festoons  in  front ;  the  in- 
finite variety  of  accelerated  or  retarded  curvature  in  every 
condition  of  mountain  debris.  But  do  you  think  mere 
science  can  measure  for  you  any  of  these  things  ?  That  book 
on  the  table  is  one  of  the  four  volumes  of  Sir  WTilliam  Hamil- 


382 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


ton's  Greek  Vases.  He  has  measured  every  important  vass 
vertically  and  horizontally,  with  precision  altogether  admira- 
ble, and  which  may,  I  hope,  induce  you  to  have  patience  with 
me  in  the  much  less  complex,  though  even  more  scrupulous, 
measurements  which  I  shall  require  on  my  own  examples. 
Yet  English  pottery  remains  precisely  where  it  was,  in  spite 
of  all  this  investigation.  Do  you  fancy  a  Greek  workman 
ever  made  a  vase  by  measurement  ?  He  dashed  it  from  his 
hand  on  the  wheel,  and  it  was  beautiful :  and  a  Venetian 
glass-blower  swept  you  a  curve  of  crystal  from  the  end  of  his 
pipe  ;  and  Reynolds  or  Tintoret  swept  a  curve  of  colour  from 
their  pencils,  as  a  musician  the  cadence  of  a  note,  unerring, 
and  to  be  measured,  if  you  please,  afterwards,  with  the 
exactitude  of  Divine  law. 

140.  But,  if  the  truth  and  beauty  of  art  are  thus  beyond 
attainment  by  help  of  science,  how  much  more  its  invention  ? 
I  must  defer  what  I  have  chiefly  to  say  on  this  head  till  next 
lecture  ;  but  to-day  I  can  illustrate,  simply,  the  position  of  in- 
vention with  respect  to  science  in  one  very  important  group 
of  inorganic  forms — those  of  drapery. 

141.  If  you  throw  at  random  over  a  rod,  a  piece  of  drapery 
of  any  material  which  will  fall  into  graceful  folds,  you  will 
get  a  series  of  sinuous  folds  in  catenary  curves  :  and  any 
given  disposition  of  these  will  be  nearly  as  agreeable  as  any 
other  ;  though,  if  you  throw  the  stuff  on  the  rod  a  thousand 
times,  it  will  not  fall  twice  alike. 

142.  But  suppose,  instead  of  a  straight  rod,  you  take  a 
beautiful  nude  statue,  and  throw  the  piece  of  linen  over  that. 
You  may  encumber  and  conceal  its  form  altogether  ;  you 
may  entirely  conceal  portions  of  the  limbs,  and  show  others  ; 
or  you  may  leave  indications,  under  the  thin  veil,  of  the  con- 
tours which  are  hidden  ;  but  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hun- 
dred you  will  wish  the  drapery  taken  off  again  ;  you  will  feel 
that  the  folds  are  in  some  sort  discrepant  and  harmful,  and 
eagerly  snatch  them  away.  However  passive  the  material, 
however  softly  accommodated  to  the  limbs,  the  wrinklings 
will  always  look  foreign  to  the  form,  like  the  drip  of  a  heavy 
shower  of  rain  falling  off  it,  and  will  load  themselves  in  the 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST, 


383 


hollows  uncomfortably.  You  will  have  to  pull  them  about ; 
to  stretch  them  one  way,  loosen  them  in  another,  and  supply 
the  quantity  of  government  which  a  living  person  would  have 
given  to  the  dress,  before  it  becomes  at  all  pleasing  to  you. 

143.  Doing  your  best,  you  will  still  not  succeed  to  your 
mind,  provided  you  have,  indeed,  a  mind  worth  pleasing.  No 
adjustment  that  you  can  make,  on  the  quiet  figure,  will  give 
any  approximation  to  the  look  of  drapery  wdiich  has  previously 
accommodated  itself  to  the  action  which  brought  the  figure 
into  the  position  in  which  it  stays.  On  a  really  living  person, 
gracefully  dressed,  and  who  has  paused  from  graceful  motion, 
you  will  get,  again  and  again,  arrangements  of  fold  which 
you  can  admire  :  but  they  will  not  remain  to  be  copied,  the 
first  following  movement  alters  all.  If  you  had  your  photo- 
graphic plate  ready  and  could  photograph — I  don't  know  if  it 
has  been  tried — girls,  like  waves,  as  they  move,  you  would 
get  what  was  indeed  lovely  ;  and  yet,  when  you  compared 
even  such  results  with  fine  sculpture,  you  would  see  that  there 
was  something  wanting ; — that,  in  the  deepest  sense,  all  was 
yet  wanting. 

144.  Yet  this  is  the  most  that  the  plurality  of  artists  can  do, 
or  think  of  doing.  They  draw  the  nude  figure  with  careful 
anatomy  ;  they  put  their  model  or  their  lay  figure  into  the  re- 
quired position  ;  they  arrange  draperies  on  it  to  their  mind, 
and  paint  them  from  the  reality.  All  such  work  is  absolutely 
valueless, — worse  than  valueless  in  the  end  of  it,  blinding  us 
to  the  qualities  of  fine  work.  ~ 

In  true  design  it  is  in  this  matter  of  drapery  as  in  all  else. 
There  is  not  a  fold  too  much,  and  all  that  are  given  aid  the 
expression,  whether  of  movement  or  character.  Here  is  a  bit 
of  Greek  sculpture,  with  many  folds  ;  here  is  a  bit  of  Chris- 
tian sculpture  with  few.  From  the  many,  not  one  could  be 
removed  without  harm,  and  to  the  few,  not  one  could  be 
added.  This  alone  is  art,  and  no>  science  will  ever  enable  you 
to  do  this,  but  the  poetic  and  fabric  instincts  only. 

145.  Nevertheless,  however  far  above  science,  your  work 
must  comply  with  all  the  requirements  of  science.  The  first 
thing  you  have  to  ask  is,  Is  it  scientifically  right  ?    That  is 


384 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


still  nothing,  but  it  is  essential.  In  modern  imitations  o{ 
Gothic  work  the  artists  think  it  religious  to  be  wrong,  and 
that  Heaven  will  be  propitious  only  to  saints  whose  stoles  or 
petticoats  stand  or  fall  into  incredible  angles. 

All  that  nonsense  I  will  soon  get  well  out  of  your  heads  by 
enabling  you  to  make  accurate  studies  from  real  drapery,  so 
that  you  may  be  able  to  detect  in  a  moment  whether  the  folds 
in  any  design  are  natural  and  true  to  the  form,  or  artificial 
and  ridiculous. 

146.  But  this,  which  is  the  science  of  drapery,  will  never 
do  more  than  guard  you  in  your  first  attempts  in  the  art  of  it. 
Nay,  when  once  you  have  mastered  the  elements  of  such  sci- 
ence, the  most  sickening  of  all  work  to  you  will  be  that  in 
which  the  draperies  are  all  right, — and  nothing  else  is.  In 
the  present  state  of  our  schools  one  of  the  chief  mean  merits 
against  which  I  shall  have  to  warn  you  is  the  imitation  of 
what  milliners  admire  :  nay,  in  many  a  piece  of  the  best  art  I 
shall  have  to  show  you  that  the  draperies  are,  to  some  extent, 
intentionally  ill-done,  lest  you  should  look  at  them.  Yet, 
through  every  complexity  of  desirableness,  and  counter-peril, 
hold  to  the  constant  and  simple  law  I  have  always  given  you 
—that  the  best  work  must  be  right  in  the  beginning,  and 
lovely  in  the  end. 

147.  Finally,  observe  that  what  is  true  respecting  these 
simple  forms  of  drapery  is  true  of  all  other  inorganic  form. 
It  must  become  organic  under  the  artist's  hand  by  his  inven- 
tion. As  there  must  not  be  a  fold  in  a  vestment  too  few  or 
too  many,  there  must  not,  in  noble  landscape,  be  a  fold  in  a 
mountain,  too  few  or  too  many.  As  you  will  never  get  from 
real  linen  cloth,  by  copying  it  ever  so  faithfully,  the  drapery 
of  a  noble  statue,  so  you  will  never  get  from  real  mountains, 
copy  them  never  so  faithfully,  the  forms  of  noble  landscape. 
Anything  more  beautiful  than  the  photographs  of  the  Valley 
of  Chamouni,  now  in  your  print- sellers'  windows,  cannot  be 
conceived.  For  geographical  and  geological  purposes  they 
are  worth  anything  ;  for  art  purposes,  worth — a  good  deal  less 
than  zero.  You  may  learn  much  from  them,  and  will  mislearn 
more.    But  in  Turner's  ' 6 Valley  of  Chamouni"  the  moun- 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


385 


tains  have  not  a  fold  too  much,  nor  too  little.  There  are  no 
such  mountains  at  Chamouni :  they  are  the  ghosts  of  eternal 
mountains,  such  as  have  been,  and  shall  be,  for  evermore. 

148.  So  now  in  sum,  for  I  may  have  confused  you  by  illus- 
tration,— 

I.  You  are,  in  drawing,  to  try  only  to  represent  the  appear- 
ances of  things,  never  what  you  know  the  things  to  be. 

II.  Those  appearances  you  are  to  test  by  the  appliance  of 
the  scientific  laws  relating  to  aspect ;  and  to  learn,  by  accu- 
rate measurement,  and  the  most  fixed  attention,  to  represent 
with  absolute  fidelity. 

III.  Having  learned  to  represent  actual  appearances  faith- 
fully, if  you  have  any  human  faculty  of  your  own,  visionary 
appearances  will  take  place  to  you  which  will  be  nobler  and 
more  true  than  any  actual  or  material  appearances  ;  and  the 
realization  of  these  is  the  function  of  every  fine  art,  which  is 
founded  absolutely,  therefore,  in  truth,  and  consists  abso- 
lutely in  imagination.  And  once  more  we  may  conclude  with, 
but  now  using  them  in  a  deeper  sense,  the  words  of  our  mas- 
ter— "The  best  in  this  kind  are  but  shadows." 

It  is  to  be  our  task,  gentlemen,  to  endeavour  that  they  may 
be  at  least  so  much. 


LECTURE  VTEI. 

THE  RELATION  TO  ART  OF  THE  SCIENCES  OF  ORGANIC  FORM. 

March  2nd,  1872. 

149.  I  have  next  in  order  to  speak  of  the  relation  of  art  to 
science,  in  dealing  with  its  own  principal  subject— organic 
form,  as  the  expression  of  life.  And,  as  in  my  former  lecture, 
I  will  tell  you  at  once  what  I  wish  chiefly  to  enforce  upon 
you. 


386 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


First. — but  this  I  shall  have  no  time  to  dwell  upon, — That 
the  true  power  of  art  must  be  founded  on  a  general  knowl- 
edge of  organic  nature,  not  of  the  human  frame  only. 

Secondly. —  That  in  representing  this  organic  nature,  quite 
as  much  as  in  representing  inanimate  things,  Art  has  nothing 
to  do  with  structures,  causes,  or  absolute  facts  ;  but  only  with 
appearances. 

Thirdly. — That  in  representing  these  appearances,  she  is 
more  hindered  than  helped  by  the  knowledge  of  things  which 
do  not  externally  appear  ;  and  therefore,  that  the  study  .of 
anatomy  generally,  whether  of  plants,  animals,  or  man,  is  an 
impediment  to  graphic  art. 

Fourthly. — That  especially  in  the  treatment  and  conception 
of  the  human  form,  the  habit  of  contemplating  its  anatomical 
structure  is  not  only  a  hindrance,  but  a  degradation  ;  and 
farther  yet,  that  even  the  study  of  the  external  form  of  the 
human  body,  more  exposed  than  it  may  be  healthily  and  de- 
cently in  daily  life,  has  been  essentially  destructive  to  every 
school  of  art  in  which  it  has  been  practised. 

150.  These  four  statements  I  undertake,  in  the  course  of 
our  future  study,  gradually  to  confirm  to  you.  In  a  single 
lecture  I,  of  course,  have  time  to  do  little  more  than  clearly 
state  and  explain  them. 

First,  I  tell  you  that  art  should  take  cognizance  of  all  living 
things,  and  know  them,  so  as  to  be  able  to  name,  that  is  to 
say,  in  the  truest  distinctive  way,  to  describe  them.  The 
Creator  daily  brings,  before  the  noblest  of  His  creatures, 
every  lower  creature,  that  whatsoever  Man  calls  it,  may  be 
the  name  thereof. 

Secondly. — In  representing,  nay,  in  thinking  of,  and  caring 
for,  these  beasts,  man  has  to  think  of  them  essentially  with 
their  skins  on  them,  and  with  their  souls  in  them.  He  is  to 
know  how  they  are  spotted,  wrinkled,  furred,  and  feathered ; 
and  what  the  look  of  them  is,  in  the  eyes  ;  and  what  grasp, 
or  cling,  or  trot,  or  pat,  in  their  paws  and  claws.  He  is  to 
take  every  sort  of  view  of  them,  in  fact,  except  one, — the 
Butcher's  view.  He  is  never  to  think  of  them  as  bones  an(J 
meat. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


387 


Thirdly. — In  the  representation  of  their  appearance,  the 
knowledge  of  bones  and  meat,  of  joint  and  muscle,  is  more  a 
hindrance  than  a  help. 

Lastly — With  regard  to  the  human  form,  such  knowledge 
is  a  degradation  as  well  as  a  hindrance  ;  and  even  the  study 
of  the  nude  is  injurious,  beyond  the  limits  of  honour  and 
decency  in  daily  life. 

Those  are  my  four  positions.  I  will  not  detain  you  by 
dwelling  on  the  first  two— that  we  should  know  every  sort  of 
beast,  and  know  it  with  its  skin  on  it,  and  its  soul  within  it. 
What  you  feel  to  be  a  paradox — perhaps  you  think  an  in- 
credible and  insolent  paradox — is  my  telling  you  that  you  will 
be  hindered  from  doing  this  by  the  study  of  anatomy.  I  ad- 
dress myself,  therefore,  only  to  the  last  two  points. 

151.  Among  your  standard  engravings,  I  have  put  that  of 
the  picture  by  Titian,  in  the  Strozzi  Palace,  of  a  little  Strozzi 
maiden  feeding  her  dog.  I  am  going  to  put  in  the  Rudi- 
mentary Series,  where  you  can  always  get  at  it  (R  125),  this 
much  more  delightful,  though  not  in  all  points  standard,  pict- 
ure by  Reynolds,  of  an  infant  daughter  of  George  the  Third's, 
with  her  Skye  terrier. 

I  have  no  doubt  these  dogs  are  the  authentic  pets,  given  in 
as  true  portraiture  as  their  mistresses ;  and  that  the  little 
Princess  of  Florence  and  Princess  of  England  were  both 
shown  in  the  company  which,  at  that  age,  they  best  liked  ; — 
the  elder  feeding  her  favourite,  and  the  baby  with  her  arms 
about  the  neck  of  hers. 

But  the  custom  of  putting  either  the  dog,  or  some  inferior 
animal,  to  be  either  in  contrast,  or  modest  companionship, 
with  the  nobleness  of  human  form  and  thought,  is  a  piece  of 
what  may  be  called  mental  comparative  anatomy,  which  has 
its  beginning  very  far  back  in  art  indeed.  One  of  quite  the 
most  interesting  Greek  vases  in  the  British  Museum  is  that 
of  which  the  painting  long  went  under  the  title  of  "  Anacreon 
and  his  Dog."  It  is  a  Greek  lyric  poet,  singing  with  lifted 
head,  in  the  action  given  to  Orpheus  and  Philammon  in  their 
moments  of  highest  inspiration  ;  while,  entirely  unaffected 
by,  and  superior  to  the  music,  there  walks  beside  him  a  sharp- 


388 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


nosed  and  curly-tailed  dog,  painted  in  what  the  exclusive  ad* 
mirers  of  Greek  art  would,  I  suppose,  call  an  ideal  manner  ; 
that  is  to  say,  his  tail  is  more  like  a  display  of  fireworks  than 
a  tail  ;  but  the  ideal  evidently  founded  on  the  material  exist- 
ence of  a  charming,  though  supercilious  animal,  not  unlike 
the  one  which  is  at  present  the  chief  solace  of  my  labours  in 
Oxford,  Dr.  Aclands  dog  Bustle.  I  might  go  much  farther 
back  than  this  ;  but  at  all  events,  from  the  time  of  the  golden 
dog  of  Pandareos,  the  fawTn  of  Diana,  and  the  eagle,  owl  and 
peacock  of  the  great  Greek  gods,  you  find  a  succession  of 
animal  types — centralized  in  the  Middle  Ages,  of  course,  by 
the  hound  and  the  falcon — used  in  art  either  to  symbolize, 
or  contrast  with,  dignity  in  human  persons.  In  modern  por- 
traiture, the  custom  has  become  vulgarized  by  the  anxiety  of 
everybody  who  sends  their  picture,  or  their  children's,  to  the 
Eoyal  Academy,  to  have  it  demonstrated  to  the  public  by  the 
exhibition  of  a  pony,  and  a  dog  with  a  whip  in  its  mouth, 
that  they  live,  at  the  proper  season,  in  a  country  house.  But 
by  the  greater  masters  the  thing  is  done  always  with  a  deep 
sense  of  the  mystery  of  the  comparative  existences  of  living 
creatures,  and  of  the  methods  of  vice  and  virtue  exhibited  by 
them.  Albert  Diirer  scarcely  ever  draws  a  scene  in  the  life 
of  the  Virgin,  without  putting  into  the  foreground  some  idle 
cherubs  at  play  with  rabbits  or  kittens  ;  and  sometimes  lets 
his  love  of  the  grotesque  get  entirely  the  better  of  him,  as  in 
the  engraving  of  the  Madonna  with  the  monkey.  Veronese 
disturbs  the  interview  of  the  queen  of  Sheba  with  Solomon, 
by  the  petulance  of  the  queen  of  Sheba's  Blenheim  spaniel, 
whom  Solomon  has  not  treated  with  sufficient  respect ; 
and  when  Veronese  is  introduced  himself,  with  all  his  fam- 
ily, to  the  Madonna,  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  his  own  pet 
dog  turns  its  back  to  the  Madonna,  and  walks  out  of  the 
room. 

152.  But  among  all  these  symbolic  playfulnesses  of  the  higher 
masters,  there  is  not  one  more  perfect  than  this  study  by  Rey- 
nolds of  the  infant  English  Princess  with  her  wire-haired  ter- 
rier. He  has  put  out  his  whole  strength  to  show  the  infinite 
differences,  yet  the  blessed  harmonies,  between  the  human 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


389 


and  the  lower  nature.  First,  having  a  blue-eyed,*  soft  baby 
to  paint,  he  gives  its  full  face,  as  round  as  may  be,  and  rounda 
its  eyes  to  complete  openness,  because  somebody  is  coming 
whom  it  does  not  know.  But  it  opens  its  eyes  in  quiet  wonder, 
and  is  not  disturbed,  but  behaves  as  a  princess  should.  Be- 
side this  soft,  serenely-minded  baby,  Reynolds  has  put  the 
roughest  and  roughest-minded  dog  he  could  think  of.  Instead 
of  the  full  round  eyes,  you  have  only  the  dark  places  in  the 
hair  where  you  know  the  terrier's  eyes  must  be — sharp  enough, 
if  you  could  see  them — and  very  certainly  seeing  you,  but  not 
at  all  wondering  at  you,  like  the  baby's.  For  the  terrier  has 
instantly  made  up  his  mind  about  you  ;  and  above  all,  that 
you  have  no  business  there  ;  and  is  growling  and  snarling  in 
his  fiercest  manner,  though  without  moving  from  his  mis- 
tress's side,  or  from  under  her  arm.  You  have  thus  the  full 
contrast  between  the  grace  and  true  charm  of  the  child,  who 
"  thinketh  no  evil  "  of  you,  and  the  uncharitable  narrowness 
of  nature  in  the  grown-up  dog  of  the  world,  who  thinks  noth- 
ing but  evil  of  you.  But  the  dog's  virtue  and  faithfulness  are 
not  told  less  clearly  ;  the  baby  evidently  uses  the  creature  just 
as  much  for  a  pillow  as  a  playmate  ; — buries  its  arm  in  the 
rough  hair  of  it  with  a  loving  confidence,  half  already  convert- 
ing itself  to  protection :  and  baby  will  take  care  of  dog,  and 
dog  of  baby,  through  all  chances  of  time  and  fortune. 

153.  Now  the  exquisiteness  with  which  the  painter  has  ap- 
jolied  all  his  skill  in  composition,  all  his  dexterity  in  touch  of 
pencil,  and  all  his  experience  of  the  sources  of  expression,  to 
complete  the  rendering  of  his  comparison,  cannot,  in  any  of 
the  finest  subtleties  of  it,  be  explained  ;  but  the  first  steps  of 
its  science  may  be  easily  traced  ;  and  with  little  pains  you 
may  see  how  a  simple  and  large  mass  of  white  is  opposed  to  a 
rugged  one  of  grey  ;  how  the  child's  face  is  put  in  front  light, 
that  no  shadow  may  detract  from  the  brightness  which  makes 
her,  as  in  Arabian  legends,  "a  princess  like  to  the  full  moon" 
— how,  in  this  halo,  the  lips  and  eyes  are  brought  out  in  deep 
and  rich  colour,  while  scarcely  a  gleam  of  reflection  is  allowed 

*  I  have  not  seen  the  picture :  in  the  engraving  the  tint  of  the  eyea 
would  properly  represent  grey  or  blue. 


390 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


to  disturb  the  quietness  of  the  eyes  ; — (the  terrier's,  you  feel, 
would  glitter  enough,  if  you  could  see  them,  and  flash  back 
in  shallow  fire  ;  but  the  princess's  eyes  are  thinking,  and  do 
not  flash  ;) — how  the  quaint  cap  surrounds,  with  its  not  wholly 
painless  formalism,  the  courtly  and  patient  face,  opposed  to 
the  rugged  and  undressed  wild  one  ;  and  how  the  easy  grace 
of  soft  limb  and  rounded  neck  are  cast,  in  repose,  against 
the  uneasily  gathered  up  crouching  of  the  short  legs,  and 
petulant  shrug  of  the  eager  shoulders,  in  the  ignobler  creat- 
ure. 

154.  Now,  in  his  doing  of  all  this,  Sir  Joshua  was  thinking 
of,  and  seeing,  whatever  was  best  in  the  creatures,  within  and 
without.  "Whatever  was  most  perfectly  doggish — perfectly 
childish — in  soul  and  body.  The  absolute  truth  of  outer  as- 
pect, and  of  inner  mind,  he  seizes  infallibly  ;  but  there  is  one 
part  of  the  creatures  which  he  never,  for  an  instant,  thinks  of, 
or  cares  for, — their  bones.  Do  you  suppose  that,  from  first 
to  last,  in  painting  such  a  picture,  it  would  ever  enter  Sir 
Joshua's  mind  to  think  what  a  dog's  skull  would  look  like, 
beside  a  baby's?  The  quite  essential  facts  to  him  are  those 
of  which  the  skull  gives  no  information — that  the  baby  has  a 
flattish  pink  nose,  and  the  dog  a  bossy  black  one.  You  might 
dissect  all  the  dead  dogs  in  the  water  supply  of  London  with- 
out finding  out  what,  as  a  painter,  it  is  here  your  only  busi- 
ness precisely  to  know, — what  sort  of  shininess  there  is  on  the 
end  of  a  terrier's  nose  ;  and  for  the  position  and  action  of  the 
creatures,  all  the  four  doctors  together,  who  set  Bustle's  leg 
for  him  the  other  day,  when  he  jumped  out  a  two-pair-of- 
stairs  window  to  bark  at  the  volunteers,  could  not  have  told 
Sir  Joshua  how  to  make  his  crouching  terrier  look  ready  to 
snap,  nor  how  to  throw  the  child's  arm  over  its  neck  in  com- 
plete, yet  not  languid,  rest. 

155.  Sir  Joshua,  then,  does  not  think  of,  or  care  for,  anat- 
omy, in  this  picture  ;  but,  if  he  had,  would  it  have  done  him 
harm?  You  may  easily  see  that  the  child's  limbs  are  not 
drawn  with  the  precision  that  Mantegna,  Durer,  or  Michael 
Angelo  would  have  given  them.  Would  some  their  science 
not  have  bettered  the  picture  ? 


THE  EAGLE'S  IV EST, 


391 


lean  show  you  exactly  the  sort  of  influence  their  science 
would  have  had. 

In  your  Rudimentary  Series,  I  have  placed  in  sequence  two 
of  Diirer's  most  celebrated  plates,  (E.  65,  E.  66,)  the  coat  of 
arms  with  the  skull,  and  the  Madonna  crowned  by  angels  ; 
and  that  you  may  see  precisely  what  qualities  are,  and  are  not, 
in  this  last,  I  have  enlarged  the  head  by  photography,  and 
placed  it  in  your  Eeference  Series  (117).  You  will  find  the 
skull  is  perfectly  understood,  and  exquisitely  engraved,  but 
the  face,  imperfectly  understood  and  coarsely  engraved.  No 
man  who  had  studied  the  skull  as  carefully  as  Diirer  did,  ever 
could  engrave  a  face  beautifully,  for  the  perception  of  the 
bones  continually  thrusts  itself  upon  him  in  wrong  places,  and 
in  trying  to  conquer  or  modify  it,  he  distorts  the  flesh.  Where 
the  features  are  marked,  and  full  of  character,  he  can  quit 
himself  of  the  impression  ;  but  in  the  rounded  contour  of 
women's  faces  he  is  always  forced  to  think  of  the  skull ;  and 
even  in  his  ordinary  work  often  draws  more  of  bones  and  hair, 
than  face. 

156.  I  could  easily  give  you  more  definite,  but  very  dis- 
agreeable, proofs  of  the  evil  of  knowing  the  anatomy  of  the 
human  face  too  intimately :  but  will  rather  give  you  further 
evidence  by  examining  the  skull  and  face  of  the  creature  who 
has  taught  us  so  much  already, — the  eagle. 

Here  is  a  slight  sketch  of  the  skull  of  the  golden  eagle.  It 
may  be  interesting  to  you  sometimes  to  make  such  drawings 
roughly,  for  the  sake  of  the  points  of  mechanical  arrangement 
■ — as  here  in  the  circular  bones  of  the  eye-socket ;  but  don't 
suppose  that  drawing  these  a  million  of  times  over  will  ever 
help  you  in  the  least  to  draw  an  eagle  itself.  On  the  contrary, 
it  would  almost  to  a  certainty  hinder  you  from  noticing  the 
essential  point  in  an  eagle's  head — the  projection  of  the  brow. 
All  the  main  work  of  the  eagle's  eye  is,  a3  we  saw,  in  looking 
down.  To  keep  the  sunshine  above  from  teasing  it,  the  eye  is 
put  under  a  triangular  penthouse,  which  is  precisely  the  most 
characteristic  thing  in  the  bird's  whole  aspect.  Its  hooked 
beak  does  not  materially  distinguish  it  from  a  cockatoo,  but 
its  hooded  eye  does.    But  that  projection  is  not  accounted 


392 


THE  EAGLE'S  JSTEST. 


for  in  the  skull ;  and,  so  little  does  the  anatomist  care  about 
it3  that  you  may  hunt  through  the  best  modern  works  on  or- 
nithology ;  and  you  will  find  eagles  drawn  with  all  manner  of 
dissections  of  skulls,  claws,  clavicles,  sternums,  and  gizzards ; 
but  you  won't  find  so  much  as  one  poor  falcon  drawn  with  a 
falcon's  eye. 

157.  But  there  is  another  quite  essential  point  in  an  eagle's 
head,  in  comprehending  which,  again,  the  skull  will  not  help 
us.  The  skull  in  the  human  creature  fails  in  three  essential 
points.  It  is  eyeless,  noseless,  and  lipless.  It  fails  only  in 
an  eagle  in  the  two  points  of  eye  and  lip  ;  for  an  eagle  has  no 
nose  worth  mentioning  ;  his  beak  is  only  a  prolongation  of 
his  jaws.  But  he  has  lips  very  much  worth  mentioning,  and 
of  which  his  skull  gives  no  account.  One  misses  them  much 
from  a  human  skull: — "Here  hung  those  lips  that  I  have 
kissed,  I  know  not  how  oft," — but  from  an  eagle's  you  miss 
them  more,  for  he  is  distinct  from  other  birds  in  having  with 
his  own  eagle's  eye,  a  dog's  lips,  or  very  nearly  such  ;  an  en- 
tirely fleshy  and  ringent  mouth,  bluish  pink,  with  a  perpetual 
grin  upon  it. 

So  that  if  you  look,  not  at  his  skull,  but  at  him,  attentively 
enough,  you  will  precisely  get  iEschylus's  notion  of  him,  es- 
sential in  the  Greek  mind — Trrrjvos  /aW  Sa<£otvos  cueros — and 
then,  if  you  want  to  see  the  use  of  his  beak  or  bill,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  a  dog's  teeth,  take  a  drawing  from  the  fal- 
conry of  the  middle  ages,  and  you  will  see  how  a  piece  of  flesh 
becomes  a  rag  to  him,  a  thing  to  tear  up, — Siapra^crci  a-o^aTo? 
fiiya  paxes.  There  you  have  it  precisely,  in  a  falcon  I  got  out 
of  Mr.  Coxe's  favourite  fourteenth  century  missal. 

Now  look  through  your  natural  history  books  from  end  to 
end  ;  see  if  you  can  find  one  drawing,  with  all  their  anatomy, 
which  shows  you  either  the  eagle's  eye,  his  lips,  or  this  es- 
sential use  of  his  beak,  so  as  to  enable  you  thoroughly  to 
understand  those  two  lines  of  iEschylus  :  then,  look  at  this 
Greek  eagle  on  a  coin  of  Elis,  R.  50,  and  this  Pisan  one,  in 
marble,  Edu.  131,  and  you  will  not  doubt  any  more  that  it  is 
better  to  look  at  the  living  birds,  than  to  cut  them  to  pieces. 

158.  Anatomy,  then, — I  will  assume  that  you  grant,  for  the 


THE  EAGLE' 8  NEST, 


393 


moment,  as  I  will  assuredly  prove  to  you  eventually, — will  not 
help  us  to  draw  the  true  appearances  of  things.  But  may  it 
not  add  to  our  intelligent  conception  of  their  nature  ? 

So  far  from  doing  this,  the  anatomical  study  which  has,  to 
our  much  degradation  and  misfortune,  usurped  the  place,  and 
taken  the  name,  at  once  of  art  and  of  natural  history,  has  pro* 
duced  the  most  singularly  mischievous  effect  on  the  faculty  of 
delineation  with  respect  to  different  races  of  animals.  In  ail 
recent  books  on  natural  history,  you  will  find  the  ridiculous 
and  ugly  creatures  done  well,  the  noble  and  beautiful  crea- 
tures done,  I  do  not  say  merely  ill,  but  in  no  wise.  You  will 
find  the  law  hold  universally  that  apes,  pigs,  rats,  weasels, 
foxes,  and  the  like, — but  especially  apes, — are  drawn  admira- 
bly ;  but  not  a  stag,  not  a  lamb,  not  a  horse,  not  a  lion  ; — the 
nobler  the  creature,  the  more  stupidly  it  is  always  drawn,  not 
from  feebleness  of  art  power,  but  a  far  deadlier  fault  than 
that — a  total  want  of  sympathy  with  the  noble  qualities  of  any 
creature,  and  a  loathsome  delight  in  their  disgusting  qualities. 
And  this  law  is  so  thoroughly  carried  out  that  the  great 
French  historian  of  the  mammalia,  St.  Hilaire,  chooses,  as  his 
single  example  of  the  highest  of  the  race,  the  most  nearly 
bestial  type  he  can  find,  liuman,  in  the  world.  Let  no  girl 
ever  look  at  the  book,  nor  any  youth  who  is  willing  to  take 
my  word  ;  let  those  who  doubt  me,  look  at  the  example  he 
has  given  of  womankind. 

159.  But  admit  that  this  is  only  French  anatomy,  or  ill- 
studied  anatomy,  and  that,  rightly  studied,  as  Dr.  Acland,  for 
instance,  would  teach  it  us,  it  might  do  us  some  kind  of  good. 

I  must  reserve  for  my  lectures  on  the  school  of  Florence 
any  analysis  of  the  effect  of  anatomical  study  on  European 
art  and  character  ;  you  will  find  some  notice  of  it  in  my  lect- 
ure on  Michael  Angelo  ;  and  in  the  course  of  that  analysis,  it 
will  be  necessary  for  me  to  withdraw  the  statement  made  in 
the  Stones  of  Venice,  that  anatomical  science  was  helpful  to 
great  men,  though  harmful  to  mean  ones.  I  am  now  certain 
that  the  greater  the  intellect,  the  more  fatal  are  the  forms  of 
degradation  to  which  it  becomes  liable  in  the  course  of  ana- 
tomical study :  and  that  to  Michael  Angelo,  of  all  men,  the 


394 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


mischief  was  greatest,  in  destroying  his  religious  passion  and 
imagination,  and  leading  him  to  make  every  spiritual  concep- 
tion subordinate  to  the  display  of  his  knowledge  of  the  body. 
To-day,  however,  I  only  wish  to  give  you  my  reasons  for  with- 
drawing anatomy  from  your  course  of  study  in  these  schools. 

160.  I  do  so,  first,  simply  with  reference  to  our  time,  con- 
venience, and  systematic  method.  It  has  become  a  habit 
with  drawing-masters  to  confuse  this  particular  science  of 
anatomy  with  their  own  art  of  drawing,  though  they  confuse 
no  other  science  with  that  art.  Admit  that,  in  order  to  draw 
a  tree,  you  should,  have  a  knowledge  of  botany  :  Do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  teach  you  botany  here  ?  Whatever  I  want  you  to 
know  of  it  I  shall  send  you  to  your  Professor  of  Botany,  and 
to  the  Botanic  Gardens,  to  learn.  I  may,  perhaps,  give  you  a 
rough  sketch  of  the  lines  of  timber  in  a  bough,  but  nothing 
more. 

So  again,  admit  that,  to  draw  a  stone,  you  need  a  knowl- 
edge of  geology.  I  have  told  you  that  you  do  not,  but  admit 
it.  Do  you  expect  me  to  teach  you,  here,  the  relations  be- 
tween quartz  and  oxide  of  iron  ;  or  between  the  Silurian  and 
Permian  systems  ?  If  you  care  about  them,  go  to  Professor 
Phillips,  and  come  back  to  me  when  you  know  them. 

And,  in  like  manner,  admit  that,  to  draw  a  man,  you  want 
the  knowledge  of  his  bones  : — you  do  not  ;  but  admit  that 
you  do.  Why  should  you  expect  me,  here,  to  teach  you  the 
most  difficult  of  all  the  sciences  ?  If  you  want  to  know  it,  go 
to  an  hospital,  and  cut  dead  bodies  to  pieces  till  you  are  sat- 
isfied ;  then  come  to  me,  and  I'll  make  a  shift  to  teach  you  to 
draw,  even  then — though  your  eyes  and  memory  will  be  full 
of  horrible  things  which  Heaven  never  meant  you  so  much  as 
a  glance  at.  But  don't  expect  me  to  help  you  in  that  ghastly 
work  ;  any  more  than  among  the  furnaces  and  retorts  in  Pro- 
fessor Maskelyne's  laboratory. 

161.  Let  us  take  one  more  step  in  the  logical  sequence. 
You  do  not,  I  have  told  you,  need  either  chemistry,  botany, 
geology,  or  anatomy,  to  enable  you  to  understand  art,  or  pro- 
duce it.  But  there  is  one  science  which  you  must  be 
acquainted  with.    You  must  very  intensely  and  thoroughly 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


395 


know — how  to  behave.  You  cannot  so  much  as  feel  the  dif- 
ference between  two  casts  of  drapery,  between  two  tenden- 
cies of  line, — how  much  less  between  dignity  and  baseness 
of  gesture, — but  by  your  own  dignity  of  character.  Bat, 
though  this  is  an  essential  science,  and  although  I  cannot 
teach  you  to  lay  one  line  beside*  another  rightly,  unless  you 
have  this  science,  you  don't  expect  me  in  these  schools  to 
teach  you  how  to  behave,  if  you  happen  not  to  know  it  be- 
fore ! 

162.  Well,  here  is  one  reason,  and  a  sufficiently  logical  one, 
as  you  will  find  it  on  consideration,  for  the  exclusion  of  ana- 
tomical study  from  all  drawing  schools.  But  there  is  a  more 
cogent  reason  than  this  for  its  exclusion,  especially  from  ele- 
mentary drawing-schools.  It  may  be  sometimes  desirable  that 
a  student  should  see,  as  I  said,  how  very  unlike  a  face  a  skull 
is  ;  and  at  a  leisure  moment  he  may,  without  much  harm,  ob- 
serve the  equivocation  between  knees  and  ankles  by  which 
it  is  contrived  that  his  legs,  if  properly  made  at  the  joints, 
will  only  bend  backwards,  but  a  crane's  forwards.  But  that 
a  young  boy,  or  girl,  brought  up  fresh  to  the  schools  of  art 
from  the  country,  should  be  set  to  stare,  against  every  particle 
of  wholesome  grain  in  their  natures,  at  the  Elgin  marbles, 
and  to  draw  them  with  dismal  application,  until  they  imagine 
they  like  them,  makes  the  whole  youthful  temper  rotten  with 
affectation,  and  sickly  with  strained  and  ambitious  fancy.  It  is 
still  worse  for  young  persons  to  be  compelled  to  endure  the 
horror  of  the  dissecting-room,  or  to  be  made  familiar  with 
the  conditions  of  actual  bodily  form,  in  a  climate  where  the 
restraints  of  dress  must  forever  prevent  the  body  from  being- 
perfect  in  contour,  or  regarded  with  entirely  simple  feeling. 

163.  I  have  now,  perhaps  too  often  for  your  patience,  told 
you  that  you  must  always  draw  for  the  sake  of  your  subject — 
never  for  the  sake  of  your  picture.  What  you  wish  to  see  in 
reality,  that  you  should  make  an  effort  to  show,  in  pictures 
and  statues  ;  what  you  do  not  wish  to  see  in  reality,  you  should 
not  try  to  draw. 

But  there  is,  I  suppose,  a  very  general  impression  on  the 
mind  of  persons  interested  in  the  arts,  that  because  nations 


396 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


living  in  cold  climates  are  necessarily  unfamiliar  with  the  sight 
of  the  naked  body,  therefore,  art  should  take  it  upon  herself 
to  show  it  them  ;  and  that  they  will  be  elevated  in  thought, 
and  made  more  simple  and  grave  in  temper,  by  seeing,  at 
least  in  colour  and  marble,  what  the  people  of  the  south  saw 
in  its  verity. 

164.  I  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  enter  at  present 
into  discussion  of  the  various  effects,  on  the  morality  of  na- 
tions, of  more  or  less  frank  showing  of  the  nude  form.  There 
is  no  question  that  if  shown  at  all,  it  should  be  shown  fear- 
lessly, and  seen  constantly ;  but  I  do  not  care,  at  present,  to 
debate  the  question  :  neither  will  I  delay  you  by  any  expres- 
sion of  my  reasons  for  the  rule  I  am  about  to  give.  Trust  me, 
I  have  many  ; — and  I  can  assert  to  you  as  a  positive  and  per- 
petual law,  that  so  much  of  the  nude  body  as  in  the  daily  life 
of  the  nation  may  be  shown  with  modesty,  and  seen  with  rev- 
erence and  delight, — so  much,  and  no  more,  ought  to  be  shown 
by  the  national  arts,  either  of  painting  or  sculpture.  What, 
more  than  this,  either  art  exhibits,  will,  assuredly,  pervert 
taste,  and,  in  all  probability,  morals. 

165.  It  will,  assuredly,  pervert  taste,  in  this  essential  point, 
that  the  polite  ranks  of  the  nation  will  come  to  think  the  lip* 
ing  creature  and  its  dress  exempt  from  the  highest  laws  of 
taste  ;  and  that  w4iile  a  man  or  woman  must,  indeed,  be  seen 
dressed  or  undressed  with  dignity,  in  marble,  they  may  be 
dressed  or  undressed,  if  not  with  indignity,  at  least,  with  less 
than  dignity,  in  the  ball-room,  and  the  street.  Now  the  law 
of  all  living  art  is  that  the  living  man  and  woman  must  be 
more  beautiful  than  their  pictures,  and  their  pictures  as  dec- 
orous as  the  living  man  or  woman  ;  and  that  real  dress,  and 
gesture,  and  behaviour,  should  be  more  graceful  than  any 
marble  or  colour  can  effect  similitude  of. 

166.  Thus  the  idea  of  a  different  dress  in  art  and  reality,  of 
which  that  of  art  is  to  be  the  ideal  one,  perverts  taste  in  dress  ; 
and  the  study  of  the  nude  which  is  rarely  seen,  as  much  per- 
verts taste  in  art. 

Of  all  pieces  of  art  that  I  know,  skilful  in  execution,  and 
not  criminal  in  intention  ; — without  any  exception,  quite  the 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


397 


roost  vulgar,  and  in  the  solemn  sense  of  the  word,  most  abom- 
inable, are  the  life  studies  which  are  said  to  be  the  best  made 
in  modern  times, — those  of  Mulready,  exhibited  as  models  in 
the  Kensington  Museum. 

167.  How  far  the  study  of  the  seldom-seen  nude  leads  to 
perversion  of  morals,  I  will  not,  to-day,  inquire  ;  but  I  beg 
you  to  observe  that  even  among  the  people  where  it  was  most 
frank  and  pure,  it  unquestionably  led  to  evil  far  greater  than 
any  good  which  demonstrably  can  be  traced  to  it.  Scarcely 
any  of  the  moral  power  of  Greece  depended  on  her  admira- 
tion of  beauty,  or  strength  in  the  body.  The  power  of  Greece 
depended  on  practice  in  military  exercise,  involving  severe  and 
continual  ascetic  discipline  of  the  senses  ;  on  a  perfect  code 
of  military  heroism  and  patriotic  honour ;  on  the  desire  to  live 
by  the  laws  of  an  admittedly  divine  justice  ;  and  on  the  vivid 
conception  of  the  presence  of  spiritual  beings.  The  mere  ad- 
miration of  physical  beauty  in  the  body,  and  the  arts  which 
sought  its  expression,  not  only  conduced  greatly  to  the  fall  of 
Greece,  but  wTere  the  cause  of  errors  and  crimes  in  her  great- 
est time,  which  must  for  ever  sadden  our  happiest  thoughts  of 
her,  and  have  rendered  her  example  almost  useless  to  the 
future. 

168.  I  have  named  four  causes  of  her  power  :  discipline  of 
senses  ;  romantic  ideal  of  heroic  honour  ;  respect  for  justice  ; 
and  belief  in  God.  There  was  a  fifth — the  most  precious  of 
all — the  belief  in  the  purity  and  force  of  life  in  man  ;  and 
that  true  reverence  for  domestic  affection,  which,  in  the 
strangest  way,  being  the  essential  strength  of  every  nation 
under  the  sun,  has  yet  been  lost  sight  of  as  the  chief  element 
of  Greek  virtue,  though  the  Iliad  itself  is  nothing  but  the 
story  of  the  punishment  of  the  rape  of  Helen  ;  and  though 
every  Greek  hero  called  himself  chiefly  by  his  parental  name, — 
Tydides,  rather  than  Diomed  ;— Pelides,  rather  than  Achilles. 

Among  the  new  knowledges  which  the  modern  sirens  tempt 
you  to  pursue,  the  basest  and  darkest  is  the  endeavour  to 
trace  the  origin  of  life,  otherwise  than  in  Love.  Pardon  me, 
therefore,  if  I  give  you  a  piece  of  theology  to-day  :  it  is  a 
science  much  closer  to  your  art  than  anatomy. 


398 


THE  EAGLE'S  NE8T. 


169.  All  of  you  who  have  ever  read  your  Gospels  carefully 
must  have  wondered,  sometimes,  what  could  be  the  meaning 
of  those  words, — "If  any  speak  against  the  Son  of  Man  it 
shall  be  forgiven  ;  but  if  against  the  Holy  Spirit,  it  shall  not 
be  forgiven,  neither  in  this  world  nor  in  the  next." 

The  passage  may  have  many  meanings  which  I  do  not 
snow  ;  but  one  meaning  I  know  positively,  and  I  tell  you  so 
just  as  frankly  as  I  would  that  I  knew  the  meaning  of  a  verse 
in  Homer. 

Those  of  you  who  still  go  to  chapel  say  every  day  your 
creed  ;  and,  I  suppose,  too  often,  less  and  less  every  day 
believing  it.  Now,  you  may  cease  to  believe  two  articles  of 
it,  and, — admitting  Christianity  to  be  true, — still  be  forgiven. 
But  I  can  tell  you — you  must  not  cease  to  believe  the  third  ! 

You  begin  by  saying  that  you  believe  in  an  Almighty 
Father.  Well,  you  may  entirely  lose  the  sense  of  that  Father- 
hood, and  yet  be  forgiven. 

You  go  on  to  say  that  you  believe  in  a  Saviour  Son.  You 
may  entirely  lose  the  sense  of  that  Sonship,  and  yet  be  forgiven. 

But  the  third  article — disbelieve  if  you  dare  ! 

"  I  believe  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  Tlie  Lord  and  Giver  of  Life." 

Disbelieve  that !  and  your  own  being  is  degraded  into  the 
state  of  dust  driven  by  the  wind  ;  and  the  elements  of  disso- 
lution have  entered  your  very  heart  and  soul. 

All  Nature,  with  one  voice — with  one  glory,  is  set  to  teach 
you  reverence  for  the  life  communicated  to  you  from  the 
Father  of  Spirits.  The  song  of  birds,  and  their  plumage ;  the 
scent  of  flowers,  their  colour,  their  very  existence,  are  in  direct 
connection  with  the  mystery  of  that  communicated  life  :  and 
all  the  strength,  and  all  the  arts  of  men,  are  measured  by,  and 
founded  upon,  their  reverence  for  the  passion,  and  their  guar- 
dianship of  the  purity,  of  Love. 

170.  Gentlemen, — the  word  by  which  I  at  this  moment  ad- 
dress you — by  which  it  is  the  first  of  all  your  duties  through 
life,  to  permit  all  men  to  address  you  with  truth — that  epithet 
of  '  gentle,'  as  you  well  know,  indicates  the  intense  respect 
for  race  and  fatherhood, — for  family  dignity  and  chastity, — 
which  wras  visibly  the  strength  of  Eome,  as  it  had  been,  more 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


399 


disguisedly,  the  strength  of  Greece.  But  have  you  enough 
noticed  that  your  Saxon  word  '  kindness '  has  exactly  the 
same  relation  to  'kin/  and  to  the  Chaucerian  '  kinde,'  that 
'  gentle  '  has  to  c  gentilis '  ? 

Think  out  that  matter  a  little,  and  you  will  find  that — much 
as  it  looks  like  it — neither  chemistry,  nor  anatomy,  nor  repub- 
licanism, are  going  to  have  it  all  their  own  way — in  the  mak- 
ing of  either  beasts,  or  gentlemen.  They  look  sometimes, 
indeed,  as  if  they  had  got  as  far  as  two  of  the  Mosaic  plagues, 
and  manufactured  frogs  in  the  ditches,  and  lice  on  the  land  ; 
but  their  highest  boasters  will  not  claim,  yet,  so  much  even 
as  that  poor  victory. 

171.  My  friends,  let  me  very  strongly  recommend  you  to 
give  up  that  hope  of  finding  the  principle  of  life  in  dead 
bodies  ;  but  to  take  all  pains  to  keep  the  life  pure  and  holy 
in  the  living  bodies  you  have  got  ;  and,  farther,  not  to  seek 
your  national  amusement  in  the  destruction  of  animals,  nor 
your  national  safety  in  the  destruction  of  men  ;  but  to  look 
for  all  your  joy  to  kindness,  and  for  all  your  strength  to  do- 
mestic faith,  and  law  of  ancestral  honour.  Perhaps  you  will 
not  now  any  more  think  it  strange  that  in  beginning  your 
natural  history  studies  in  this  place,  I  mean  to  teach  you 
heraldry,  but  not  anatomy.  For,  as  you  learn  to  read  the 
shields,  and  remember  the  stories,  of  the  great  houses  of  Eng- 
land, and  find  how  all  the  arts  that  glorified  them  were 
founded  on  the  passions  that  inspired,  you  will  learn  assur- 
edly, that  the  utmost  secret  of  national  power  is  in  living  with 
honour,  and  the  utmost  secrets  of  human  art  are  in  gentleness 
and  truth. 


LECTUBE  IX. 

THE  STORY  OF  THE  HALCYON. 

March  7fh9  1872. 

172.  I  must  to-day  briefly  recapitulate  the  purport  of  the 
preceding  lectures,  as  we  are  about  now  to  enter  on  a  new 
branch  of  our  subject. 


400 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


I  stated,  in  the  first  two,  that  the  wisdom  of  art  and  the 
wisdom  of  science  consisted  in  their  being  each  devoted  un- 
selfishly to  the  service  of  men:  in  the  third,  that  art  was  only 
the  shadow  of  our  knowledge  of  facts  ;  and  that  the  reality 
was  always  to  be  acknowledged  as  more  beautiful  than  the 
shadow.  In  the  fourth  lecture  I  endeavoured  to  show  that  the 
wise  modesty  of  art  and  science  lay  in  attaching  due  value  to 
the  power  and  knowledge  of  other  people,  when  greater  than 
our  own  ;  and  in  the  fifth,  that  the  wise  self-sufficiency  of  art 
and  science  lay  in  a  proper  enjoyment  of  our  own  knowledge 
and  power,  after  it  was  thus  modestly  esteemed.  The  sixth 
lecture  stated  that  sight  was  a  distinctly  spiritual  power,  and 
that  its  kindness  or  tenderness  was  proportioned  to  its  clear- 
ness. Lastly,  in  the  seventh  and  eighth  lectures,  I  asserted 
that  this  spiritual  sight,  concerned  with  external  aspects  of 
things,  was  the  source  of  all  necessary  knowledge  in  art  ;  and 
that  the  artist  has  no  concern  with  invisible  structures,  or- 
ganic or  inorganic. 

173.  No  concern  with  invisible  structures.  But  much  with 
invisible  things  ;  with  passion,  and  with  historical  associa- 
tion. And  in  these  two  closing  lectures,  I  hope  partly  to 
justify  myself  for  pressing  on  your  attention  some  matters  as 
little  hitherto  thought  of  in  drawing-schools,  as  the  exact  sci- 
ences have  been  highly,  and,  I  believe,  unjustly,  esteemed  ; 
— mythology,  namely,  and  heraldry. 

I  can  but  in  part  justify  myself  now.  Your  experience  of 
the  interest  which  may  be  found  in  these  two  despised  sci- 
ences will  be  my  best  justification.  But  to-day  (as  we  are 
about  to  begin  our  exercises  in  bird-drawing)  I  think  it  may 
interest  you  to  review  some  of  the  fables  connected  with  the 
natural  history  of  a  single  bird,  and  to  consider  what  effect 
the  knowledge  of  such  tradition  is  likely  to  have  on  our  mode 
of  regarding  the  animated  creation  in  general. 

174.  Let  us  first  take  an  instance  of  the  feeling  towards 
birds  which  is  especially  characteristic  of  the  English  temper 
at  this  day,  in  its  entire  freedom  from  superstition. 

You  will  find  in  your  Eudimentary  Series  (225),  Mr. 
GoukVs  plate  of  the  lesser  Egret,— the  most  beautiful,  I  sup- 


THE  EAGLE' 8  NEST. 


401 


pose,  of  all  birds  that  visit,  or,  at  least,  once  visited,  our  Eng- 
lish shores,  Perfectly  delicate  in  form,  snow-white  in  plu- 
mage, the  feathers  like  frost-work  of  dead  silver,  exquisitely 
slender,  separating  in  the  wind  like  the  streams  of  a  fountain, 
the  creature  looks  a  living  cloud  rather  than  a  bird. 

It  may  be  seen  often  enough  in  South  France  and  Italy. 
The  last  (or  last  but  one  ?)  known  of  in  England  came  thirty 
years  ago,  and  this  was  its  reception,  as  related  by  the  present 
happy  possessor  of  its  feathers  and  bones  : — 

"  The  little  Egret  in  my  possession  is  a  most  beautiful 
specimen  ;  it  was  killed  by  a  labourer  with  a  stick,  in  Ake 
Carr,  near  Beverly,  about  1840,  and  wTas  brought  to  me,  tied 
up  in  a  pocket-handkerchief,  covered  with  black  wet  mud  and 
blood,  in  which  state  it  was  sent  to  Mr.  Reed,  of  Doncaster, 
and  restored  by  him  in  a  most  marvellous  manner." 

175.  Now,  you  will  feel  at  once  that,  while  the  peasant  was 
beating  this  bird  into  a  piece  of  bloody  flesh  with  his  stick, 
he  could  not,  in  any  true  sense,  see  the  bird  ;  that  he  had  no 
pleasure  either  in  the  sight  of  that,  or  of  anything  near  it. 

You  feel  that  he  would  become  capable  of  seeing  it  in  exact 
proportion  to  his  desire  not  to  kill  it ;  but  to  watch  it  in  its  life. 

Well,  that  is  a  quite  general  law  :  in  the  degree  in  which 
you  delight  in  the  life  of  any  creature,  you  can  see  it ;  no 
otherwise. 

And  you  would  feel,  would  you  not,  that  if  you  could  en- 
able the  peasant  rightly  to  see  the  bird,  you  had  in  great  part 
educated  him  ? 

176.  You  would  certainly  have  gone,  at  least,  the  third  of 
the  way  towards  educating  him.  Then  the  next  thing  to  be 
contrived  would  be  that  he  should  be  able'  to  see  a  man 
rightly,  as  well  as  a  bird ;  to  understand  and  ]ove  what  was 
good  in  a  man,  so  that,  supposing  his  master  was  a  good  man, 
the  sight  of  his  master  should  be  a  joy  to  him.  You  would 
say  that  he  was  therein  better  educated  than  if  he  wanted  to 
put  a  gun  through  a  hedge  and  shoot  his  master. 

Then  the  last  part  of  education  will  be — whatever  is  meant 
by  that  beatitude  of  the  pure  in  heart — seeing  God  rightly, 
of  which  I  shall  not  speak  to-day. 


402 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


177.  And  in  ail  these  phases  of  education,  the  main  point, 
you  observe,  is  that  it  should  be  a  beatitude  :  and  that  a  man 
should  learn  c<xa^PeiV  opOtbs  :  "  and  this  rejoicing  is  above  all 
things  to  be  in  actual  sight ;  you  have  the  truth  exactly  in 
the  saying  of  Dante  when  he  is  brought  before  Beatrice,  in 
heaven,  that  his  eyes  "  satisfied  themselves  for  their  ten  years' 
thirst." 

This,  then,  I  repeat,  is  the  sum  of  education.  All  literature, 
art,  and  science  are  vain,  and  worse,  if  they  do  not  enable  you 
to  be  glad  ;  and  glad  justly. 

And  I  feel  it  distinctly  my  duty,  though  with  solemn  and 
true  deference  to  the  masters  of  education  in  this  university, 
to  say  that  I  believe  our  modern  methods  of  teaching,  and  es- 
pecially the  institution  of  severe  and  frequent  examination,  to 
be  absolutely  opposed  to  this  great  end  ;  and  that  the  result 
of  competitive  labour  in  youth  is  infallibly  to  make  men  know 
all  they  learn  wrongly,  and  hate  the  habit  of  learning  ;  so 
that  instead  of  coming  to  Oxford  to  rejoice  in  their  work, 
men  look  forward  to  the  years  they  are  to  pass  under  her 
teaching  as  a  deadly  agony,  from  which  they  are  fain  to  es- 
cape, and  sometimes  for  their  life,  must  escape,  into  any 
method  of  sanitary  frivolity. 

178.  I  go  back  to  my  peasant  and  his  egret.  You  all  think 
with  some  horror  of  this  man,  beating  the  bird  to  death,  as  a 
brutal  person.  He  is  so  ;  but  how  far  are  we  English  gentle- 
men, as  a  body,  raised  above  him  ?  We  are  more  delicately 
nurtured,  and  shrink  from  the  notion  of  bruising  the  creature 
and  spoiling  its  feathers.  That  is  so  far  right,  and  well. 
But  in  all  probability  this  countryman,  rude  and  cruel  though 
he  might  be,  had  some  other  object  in  the  rest  of  his  day 
than  the  killing  of  birds.  And  very  earnestly  I  ask  you,  have 
English  gentlemen,  as  a  class,  any  other  real  object  in  their 
whole  existence  than  killing  birds  ?  If  they  discern  a  duty, 
they  will  indeed  do  it  to  the  death  ;  but  have  the  English 
aristocracy  at  this  moment  any  clear  notion  of  their  duty  ?  I 
believe  solemnly,  and  without  jest,  their  idea  of  their  caste  is 
that  its  life  should  be,  distinctively  from  inferior  human  lives 
spent  in  shooting. 


THE  EAGLE'S  JSTEST. 


403 


And  that  is  not  an  idea  of  caste  with  which  England,  at  this 
epoch,  can  any  longer  be  governed. 

179.  I  have  no  time  to-day  to  push  my  argument  farther  ; 
but  I  have  said  enough,  I  think,  to  induce  you  to  bear  with 
me  in  the  statement  of  my  main  theorem — that  reading  and 
writing  are  in  no  sense  education,  unless  they  contribute  to 
this  end  of  making  us  feel  kindly  towards  all  creatures  ;  but 
that  drawing,  and  especially  physiologic  drawing,  is  vital  ed- 
ucation of  a  most  precious  kind.  Farther,  that  more  good 
would  be  done  by  any  English  nobleman  who  would  keep  his 
estate  lovely  in  its  native  wildness  ;  and  let  every  animal  live 
upon  it  in  peace  that  chose  to  come  there,  than  will  be  done, 
as  matters  are  going  now,  by  the  talk  of  all  the  Lords  in  Par- 
liament, as  long  as  we  live  to  listen  to  them  ;  and,  I  will  even 
venture  to  tell  you  my  hope,  though  I  shall  be  dead  long 
before  its  possible  fulfilment,  that  one  day  the  English  people 
will,  indeed,  so  far  recognize  what  education  means  as  to  sur- 
round this  university  with  the  loveliest  park  in  England, 
twenty  miles  square  ;  that  they  will  forbid,  in  that  environ- 
ment, every  unclean,  mechanical,  and  vulgar  trade  and  manu- 
facture, as  any  man  would  forbid  them  in  his  own  garden  ; — 
that  they  will  abolish  every  base  and  ugly  building,  and  nest 
of  vice  and  misery,  as  they  would  cast  out  a  devil ; — that  the 
streams  of  the  Isis  and  Cherwell  will  be  kept  pure  and  quiet 
among  their  fields  and  trees  ;  and  that,  within  this  park,  every 
English  wild  fiowrer  that  can  bloom  in  lowland  will  be  suffered 
to  grow  in  luxuriance,  and  every  living  creature  that  haunts 
wood  and  stream  know  that  it  has  happy  refuge. 

And  now  to  our  immediate  work. 

180.  The  natural  history  of  anything,  or  of  any  creature, 
divides  itself  properly  into  three  branches. 

We  have  first  to  collect  and  examine  the  traditions  respect- 
ing  the  thing,  so  that  we  may  know  what  the  effect  of  its 
existence  has  hitherto  been  on  the  minds  of  men,  and  may 
have  at  our  command  what  data  exist  to  help  us  in  our 
own  inquiries  about  it,  or  to  guide  us  in  our  own  thoughts 
of  it. 

We  have  secondly  to  examine  and  describe  the  thing,  or 


404 


THE  EAGLE'S  JSFEST. 


creature,  in  its  actual  state,  with  utmost  attainable  veracity  of 
observation. 

Lastly,  we  have  to  examine  under  what  laws  of  chemistry 
and  physics  the  matter  of  which  the  thing  is  made  has  been 
collected  and  constructed. 

Thus  we  have  first  to  know  the  poetry  of  it — t.  e.3  what  it 
has  been  to  man,  or  what  man  has  made  of  it. 

Secondly,  the  actual  facts  of  its  existence. 

Thirdly,  the  physical  causes  of  these  facts,  if  we  can  dis- 
cover them. 

181.  Now,  it  is  customary,  and  may  be  generally  advisable, 
to  confine  the  term  '  natural  history '  to  the  last  two  branches 
of  knowledge  only.  I  do  not  care  what  we  call  the  first 
branch  ;  but,  in  the  accounts  of  animals  that  I  prepare  for 
my  schools  at  Oxford,  the  main  point  with  me  will  be  the 
mythology  of  them ;  the  second,  their  actual  state  and  aspect, 
(second,  this,  because  almost  always  hitherto  only  half  known) ; 
and  the  anatomy  and  chemistry  of  their  bodies,  I  shall  very 
rarely,  and  partially,  as  I  told  you,  examine  at  all :  but  I  shall 
take  the  greatest  pains  to  get  at  the  creature's  habits  of  life  ; 
and  know  all  its  ingenuities,  humours,  delights,  and  intellect- 
ual powers.  That  is  to  say,  what  art  it  has,  and  what  affec- 
tion ;  and  how  these  are  prepared  for  in  its  external  form. 

182.  I  say,  deliberately  and  energetically,  i  prepared  for,' 
in  opposition  to  the  idea,  too  prevalent  in  modern  philosophy, 
of  the  form's  being  fortuitously  developed  by  repetition  of 
impulse.  It  is  of  course  true  that  the  aspects  and  characters 
of  stones,  flowers,  birds,  beasts,  and  men,  are  inseparably  con- 
nected with  the  conditions  under  which  they  are  appointed  to 
have  existence  ;  but  the  method  of  this  connection  is  infi- 
nitely varied  ;  so  far  from  fortuitous,  it  appears  grotesquely, 
often  terrifically,  arbitrary  ;  and  neither  stone,  flower,  beast, 
nor  man  can  understand  any  single  reason  of  the  arbitrament, 
or  comprehend  why  its  Creator  made  it  thus. 

183.  To  take  the  simplest  of  instances, — which  happens 
also  to  be  one  of  the  most  important  to  you  as  artists, — it  is 
appointed  that  vertebrated  animals  shall  have  no  more  than 
four  legs,  and  that,  if  they  require  to  fly,  the  two  legs  in  front 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


405 


must  become  wings,  it  being  against  law  that  they  should 
have  more  than  these  four  members  in  ramification  from  the 
spine. 

Can  any  law  be  conceived  more  arbitrary,  or  more  appar- 
ently causeless  ?  What  strongly  planted  three-legged  animals 
there  might  have  been  !  what  symmetrically  radiant  five- 
legged  ones  !  what  volatile  six-winged  ones !  what  circun> 
spect  seven-headed  ones !  Had  Darwinism  been  true,  wo 
should  long  ago  have  split  our  heads  in  two  with  foolish 
thinking,  or  thrust  out,  from  above  our  covetous  hearts,  a 
hundred  desirous  arms  and  clutching  hands  ;  and  changed 
ourselves  into  Briarean  Cephalopoda.  But  the  law  is  around 
us,  and  within  ;  unconquerable  ;  granting,  up  to  a  certain  limit, 
power  over  our  bodies  to  circumstance  and  will :  beyond  that 
limit,  inviolable'  inscrutable,  and,  so  far  as  we  know,  eternal. 

184.  For  every  lower  animal,  similar  laws  are  established  ; 
under  the  grasp  of  these  it  is  capable  of  change,  invisibly 
permitted  oscillation  between  certain  points  f  beyond  which, 
according  to  present  experience,  it  cannot  pass.  The  adapta- 
tion of  the  instruments  it  possesses  in  its  members  to  the 
conditions  of  its  life  is  always  direct,  and  occasionally  beauti- 
ful ;  but  in  the  plurality  of  instances,  partial,  and  involving 
painful  supplementary  effort.  Some  animals  have  to  dig  with 
their  noses,  some  to  build  with  their  tails,  some  to  spin  with 
their  stomachs  :  their  dexterities  are  usually  few — their  awk- 
wardnesses numberless ; — a  lion  is  continually  puzzled  how 
to  hold  a  bone  ;  and  an  eagle  can  scarcely  pull  the  meat  off 
one,  without  upsetting  himself. 

185.  Respecting  the  origin  of  these  variously  awkward, 
imperfectly,  or  grotesquely  developed  phases  of  form  and 
power,  you  need  not  at  present  inquire  :  in  all  probability  the 
race  of  man  is  appointed  to  live  in  wonder,  and  in  acknowl- 
edgment of  ignorance  ;  but  if  ever  he  is  to  know  any  of  the 
secrets  of  his  own  or  of  brutal  existence,  it  will  surely  be 
through  discipline  of  virtue,  not  through  inquisitiveness  of 
science.  I  have  just  used  the  expression,  "had  Darwinism 
been  true,"  implying  its  fallacy  more  positively  than  is  justi- 
fiable in  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge  ;  but  very  posi- 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


tively  I  can  say  to  you  that  I  have  never  heard  yet  one  logical 
argument  in  its  favour,  and  I  have  heard,  and  read,  many  that 
were  beneath  contempt.  For  instance,  by  the  time  you  have 
copied  one  or  two  of  your  exercises  on  the  feathei  of  the  hal- 
cyon, you  will  be  more  interested  in  the  construction  and  dis- 
position of  plume-filaments  than  heretofore  ;  and  you  may 
perhaps,  refer,  in  hope  of  help,  to  Mr.  Darwin's  account  of 
the  peacock's  feather.  I  went  to  it  myself,  hoping  to  learn 
some  of  the  existing  laws  of  life  which  regulate  the  local  dis- 
position of  the  colour.  But  none  of  these  appear  to  be  known  ; 
and  I  am  informed  only  that  peacocks  have  grown  to  be  pea- 
cocks out  of  brown  pheasants,  because  the  young  feminine 
brown  pheasants  like  fine  feathers.  Whereupon  I  say  to 
myself,  "Then  either  there  was  a  distinct  species  of  brown 
pheasants  originally  born  with  a  taste  for  fme  feathers  ;  and 
therefore  with  remarkable  eyes  in  their  heads, — which  would 
be  a  much  more  wonderful  distinction  of  species  than  being 
born  with  remarkable  eyes  in  their  tails, — or  else  all  pheasants 
would  have  been  peacocks  by  this  time  !  "  And  I  trouble  my- 
self no  more  about  the  Darwinian  theory. 

"When  you  have  drawn  some  of  the  actual  patterns  of  plume 
and  scale  with  attention,  I  believe  you  will  see  reason  to  think 
that  spectra  of  organic  species  may  be  at  least  as  distinct  as 
those  of  metals  or  gases  ;  but  learn  at  all  events  what  they  are 
now,  and  never  mind  what  they  have  been. 

186.  Nor  need  you  care  for  methods  of  classification  any 
more  than  for  the  origin  of  classes.  Leave  the  physiologists 
to  invent  names,  and  dispute  over  them  ;  your  business  is  to 
know  the  creature,  not  the  name  of  it  momentarily  fashion- 
able in  scientific  circles.  What  practical  service  you  can  get 
from  the  order  at  present  adopted,  take,  without  contention ; 
and  as  far  as  possible,  use  English  words,  or  be  sure  you 
understand  the  Latin  ones. 

187.  For  instance,  the  order  at  present  adopted  in  arrang- 
ing the  species  of  birds  is,  as  you  know,  founded  only  on  their 
ways  of  using  their  feet. 

Some  catch  or  snatch  their  prey,  and  are  called  "  Snatch- 
ers  " — raptohes. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


407 


Some  perch  on  branches,  and  are  called  "  In-sitters,"  or 
(Jpon-sitters — insessores. 
Some  climb  and  cling  on  branches,  and  are  called  Climbers 

— SCANSORES. 

Some  scratch  the  ground,  and  are  called  "  Scratchers" — 

RASORES. 

Some  stand  or  wade  in  shallow  water,  and,  having  long 
legs,  are  called  "  Stilt- walkers  " — grallatores. 

Some  float,  and  make  oars  of  their  feet,  and  are  called 
"  Swimmers  " — natatores. 

188.  This  classification  is  unscholarly,  because  there  are 
many  snatchers  and  scratchers  who  perch  as  well  as  the  sit- 
ters ;  and  many  of  the  swimmers  sit,  when  ashore,  more  neatly 
than  the  sitters  themselves  ;  and  are  most  grave  insessors,  in 
long  rows,  on  rock  or  sand  :  also,  £  insessor '  does  not  mean 
properly  a  sitter,  but  a  besieger  ;  and  it  is  awkward  to  call  a 
bird  a  'Rasor.'  Still,  the  use  of  the  feet  is  on  the  whole 
characteristic,  and  convenient  for  first  rough  arrangement ; 
only,  in  general  reference,  it  will  be  better  to  use  plain  Eng- 
lish words  than  those  stiff  Latin  ones,  or  their  ugly  trans- 
lations. Linnseus,  for  all  his  classes  except  the  stilt-walkers, 
used  the  name  of  the  particular  birds  which  were  the  best 
types  of  their  class  ;  he  called  the  snatchers  "hawks"  (Accip- 
itres),  the  swimmers,  geese,  (Anseres),  the  scratchers,  fowls, 
(Gallinae),  and  the  perchers,  sparrows,  (Passeres).  He  has  no 
class  of  climbers  ;  but  he  has  one  since  omitted  by  Cuvier, 
"  pies,"  which,  for  certain  mythological  reasons  presently  to 
be  noted,  I  will  ask  you  to  keep.  This  will  give  you  seven 
orders,  altogether,  to  be  remembered ;  and  for  each  of  these 
we  will  take  the  name  of  its  most  representative  bird.  The 
hawk  has  best  right  undoubtedly  to  stand  for  the  snatchers ; 
we  will  have  his  adversary,  the  heron,  for  the  stilt-walkers ; 
you  will  find  this  very  advisable,  no  less  than  convenient ;  be- 
cause some  of  the  beaks  of  the  stilt-walkers  turn  down,  and 
some  turn  up  ;  but  the  heron's  is  straight,  and  so  he  stands 
well  as  a  pure  middle  type.  Then,  certainly,  gulls  will  better 
represent  the  swimmers  than  geese  ;  and  pheasants  are  a 
prettier  kind  of  scratchers  than  fowls.    We  will  take  parrots 


408 


TEE  EAGLE' £  NEST. 


for  the  climbers,  magpies  for  the  pies,  and  sparrows  for  the 
perchers.  Then  take  them  in  this  order :  Hawks,  parrots, 
pies,  sparrows,  pheasants,  gulls,  herons ;  and  you  can  then 
easily  remember  them.  For  you  have  the  hawks  at  one  end, 
the  herons  at  the  other,  and  sparrows  in  the  middle,  with  pies 
on  one  side  and  pheasants  opposite,  for  which  arrangement 
you  will  find  there  is  good  reason ;  then  the  parrots  necessarily 
go  beside  the  hawks,  and  the  gulls  beside  the  herons. 

189.  The  bird  whose  mythic  history  I  am  about  to  read  to 
you  belongs  essentially  and  characteristically  to  that  order  of 
pies,  picae,  or  painted  birds,  which  the  Greeks  continually 
opposed  in  their  thoughts  and  traditions  to  the  singing  birds, 
representing  the  one  by  the  magpie,  and  the  other  by  the  night- 
ingale. The  myth  of  Autolycus  and  Philammon,  and  Pindar's 
exquisite  story  of  the  infidelity  of  Coronis,  are  the  centres  of 
almost  countless  traditions,  all  full  of  meaning,  dependent  on 
the  various  7roi/aAta,  to  eye  and  ear,  of  these  opposed  races  of 
birds.  The  Greek  idea  of  the  Halcyon  united  both  these 
sources  of  delight.  I  will  read  you  what  notices  of  it  I  find 
most  interesting,  not  in  order  of  date,  but  of  brevity ;  the 
simplest  first. 

190.  "And  the  King  of  Trachis,  the  child  of  the  Morning 
Star,  married  Alcyone.  And  they  perished,  both  of  them, 
through  their  pride  ;  for  the  king  called  his  wTife,  Hera  ;  and 
she  her  husband,  Zeus  :  but  Zeus  made  birds  of  them  (avrovs 
airwpviieare),  and  he  made  the  one  a  Halcyon,  and  the  other  a 
a  Sea-mew." — Apollodorus,  L  7,  4. 

"When  the  King  of  Trachis,  the  son  of  Hesperus,  or  of 
Lucifer,  and  Philonis,  perished  in  shipwreck,  his  wife  Alcyone, 
the  daughter  of  iEolus  and  iEgiale,  for  love  of  him,  threw 
herself  into  the  sea  ; — who  both,  by  the  mercy  of  the  gods, 
were  turned  into  the  birds  called  Halcyons.  These  birds,  in  the 
winter-time,  build  their  nests,  and  lay  their  eggs,  and  hatch 
their  young  on  the  sea  ;  and  the  sea  is  quiet  in  those  days, 
which  the  sailors  call  the  Halcyonia." — FTyginus,  Fab.  LXV. 

191.  "Now  the  King  of  Trachis,  the  son  of  Lucifer,  had  to 
wife  Halcyone.  And  he,  wishing  to  consult  the  oracle  of 
Apollo  concerning  the  state  of  his  kingdom,  was  forbidden  to 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


409 


go,  by  Halcyone,  nevertheless  lie  went  ;  and  perished  by  ship- 
wreck. And  when  his  body  was  brought  to  his  wife  Halcyone, 
she  threw  herself  into  the  sea.  Afterwards,  by  the  mercy  of 
Thetis  and  Lucifer,  they  were  both  turned  into  the  sea-birds 
called  Halcyons.  And  you  ought  to  know  that  Halcyone  is 
the  woman's  name,  and  is  always  a  feminine  noun  ;  but  the 
bird's  name  is  Halcyon,  masculine  and  feminine,  and  so  also 
its  plural,  Halcyones.  Also  those  birds  make  their  nests  in 
the  sea,  in  the  middle  of  winter  ;  in  which  days  the  calm  is  so 
deep  that  hardly  anything  in  the  sea  can  be  moved.  Thence, 
also,  the  days  themselves  are  called  Haleyonia." — Servius,  in 
Virg.  Georg.  i.  399. 

192.  ' 4  And  the  pairing  of  birds,  as  I  said,  is  for  the  most 
part  in  spring  time,  and  early  summer  ;  except  the  halcyon's. 
For  the  halcyon  has  its  young  about  the  turn  of  days  in  win- 
ter, wherefore,  when  those  days  are  fine,  they  are  called  '  Hal- 
ey onine  '  (akKvovetoi) ;  seven,  indeed,  before  the  turn,  and 
seven  after  it,  as  Simonides  poetized,  (eW^o-cy). 

'  As,  when  in  the  wintry  month 
Zeus  gives  the  wisdom  of  calm  to  fourteen  days, 
Then  the  people  of  the  land  call  it 
The  hour  of  wind- hiding,  the  sacred 
Nurse  of  the  spotted  Halcyon. ' 

<c  And  in  the  first  seven  days  the  halcyon  is  said  to  lay  her 
eggs,  and  in  the  latter  seven  to  bring  forth  and  nourish  her 
young.  Here,  indeed,  in  the  seas  of  Greece,  it  does  not 
always  chance  that  the  Haley onid  days  are  at  the  solstice ; 
hut  in  the  Sicilian  sea,  almost  always.  But  the  aethuia  and 
the  laros  bring  forth  their  young,  (two,  or  three)  among  the 
rocks  by  the  sea-shore  ;  but  the  laros  in  summer,  the  lethuia 
in  first  spring,  just  after  the  turn  of  days  ;  and  they  sit  on 
them  as  other  birds  do.  And  none  of  these  birds  lie  torpid 
in  holes  during  the  winter  ;  but  the  halcyon  is,  of  all,  seen 
the  seldomest,  for  it  is  seen  scarcely  at  all,  except  just  at  the 
setting  and  turn  of  Pleias,  and  then  it  will  but  show  itself 
once  and  away ;  flying,  perhaps,  once  round  a  ship  at  anchor, 
and  then  it  is  gone  instantly." — Aristotle,  Hist  A  v.,  v.  8,  9. 

193.  "  Now  we  are  ready  enough  to  extol  the  bee  for  a  wise 


410 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


creature,  and  to  consent  to  the  laws  by  which  it  cares  for  the 
yellow  honey,  because  we  adore  the  pleasantness  and  tickling 
to  our  palates  that  is  in  the  sweetness  of  that ;  but  we  take 
no  notice  of  the  wisdom  and  art  of  other  creatures  in  bring- 
ing up  their  young,  as  for  instance,  the  halcyon,  who  as  soon 
as  she  has  conceived,  makes  her  nest  by  gathering  the  thorns 
of  the  sea-needle-fish  ;  and,  weaving  these  in  and  out,  and 
joining  them  together  at  the  ends,  she  finishes  her  nest ; 
round  in  the  plan  of  it,  and  long,  in  the  proportion  of  a  fish- 
erman's net ;  and  then  she  puts  it  where  it  will  be  beaten  by 
the  waves,  until  the  rough  surface  is  all  fastened  together  and 
made  close.  And  it  becomes  so  hard  that  a  blow  with  iron  or 
stone  will  not  easily  divide  it ;  but,  what  is  more  wonderful 
still,  is  that  the  opening  of  the  nest  is  made  so  exactly  to  the 
size  and  measure  of  the  halcyon  that  nothing  larger  can  get 
into  it,  and  nothing  smaller! — so  they  say  ; — "no,  not  even 
the  sea  itself,  even  the  least  drop  of  it." — Plutarch  :  Be  Amove 
Prolis. 

I  have  kept  to  the  last  Lucian's  dialogue,  "the  Halcyon," 
to  show  you  how  the  tone  of  Christian  thought,  and  tradition 
of  Christ's  walking  on  the  sea,  began  to  steal  into  heathen 
literature. 

Socrates — Chaerephon. 

194.  "  Chaerephon.  What  cry  is  that,  Socrates,  which  came 
to  us  from  the  beach  ;  how  sweet  it  was  ;  what  can  it  be  ?  the 
things  that  live  in  the  sea  are  all  mute. 

"Socrates.  Yet  it  is  a  sea-creature,  Chaerephon  ;  the  bird 
called  Halcyon,  concerning  which  the  old  fable  runs  that  she 
was  the  daughter  of  iEolus,  and,  mourning  in  her  youth  for 
her  lost  husband,  was  winged,  by  divine  power,  and  now  flies 
over  the  sea,  seeking  him  whom  she  could  not  find,  sought 
throughout  the  earth. 

"Chaerephon.  And  is  that  indeed  the  Halcyon's  cry  ?  I 
never  heard  it  yet ;  and  in  truth  it  is  very  pitiful.  How  large 
is  the  bird,  Socrates  ? 

"  Socrates.  Not  great ;  but  it  has  received  great  honour 
from  the  Gods,  because  of  its  lovingness  ;  for  while  it  is  mak- 
ing its  nest,  all  the  world  has  the  happy  days  which  it  calls 


THJC  EAGLE" 8  NEST. 


411 


halcyonida?,  excelling*  all  others  in  their  calmness,  though  in 
the  midst  of  storm  ;  of  which  you  see  this  very  day  is  one,  if 
ever  there  was.  Look  how  clear  the  sky  is,  and  the  sea  wave- 
less  and  calm,  like  a  mirror  ! 

"  Chaerephon.  You  say  truly,  and  yesterday  was  just  such 
another.  But  in  the  name  of  the  Gods,  Socrates,  how  is  one 
to  believe  those  old  sayings,  that  birds  were  ever  changed 
into  women,  or  women  into  birds,  for  nothing  could  seem 
more  impossible  ? 

195.  "  Socrates.  Ah,  dear  Chaerephon,  it  is  likely  that  we 
are  poor  and  blunt  judges  of  what  is  possible  and  not :  for 
we  judge  by  comparing  to  human  power  a  power  unknown 
to  us,  unimaginable,  and  unseen.  Many  things,  therefore, 
that  are  easy,  seem  to  us  difficult  ;  and  many  things  unat- 
tainable that  may  be  attained  ;  being  thus  thought  of,  some 
through  the  inexperience,  and  some  through  the  infantine 
folly,  of  our  minds.  For  in  very  deed  every  man  may  be 
thought  of  as  a  child — even  the  oldest  of  us,- — since  the  full 
time  of  life  is  little,  and  as  a  baby's,  compared  to  universal 
time.  And  what  should  we  have  to  say,  my  good  friend,  who 
know  nothing  of  the  power  of  gods  or  of  the  spirits  of  Nature, 
whether  any  of  such  things  are  possible  or  not  ?  You  saw, 
Chaerephon,  what  a  storm  there  was,  the  clay  before  yester- 
day ;  it  makes  one  tremble  even  to  think  of  it  again  ; — that 
lightning,  and  thunder,  and  sudden  tempest,  so  great  that 
one  would  have  thought  all  the  earth  falling  to  ruin  ;  and  yet, 
in  a  little  while,  came  the  wonderful  establishing  of  calm, 
which  has  remained  even  till  now.  Whether,  then,  do  you 
think  it  the  greater  wrork  to  bring  such  a  calm  out  of  that 
tormenting  whirlwind,  and  reduce  the  universe  to  peace,  or 
to  change  the  form  of  a  woman  into  that  of  a  bird  ?  For  in- 
deed we  see  how  very  little  children,  who  know  how7  to  knead 
clay,  do  something  like  this  also  ;  often  out  of  one  lump  they 
will  make  form  after  form,  of  different  natures  :  and  surely  to 
the  spirit-powers  of  Nature,  being  in  vast  and  inconjecturable 
excess  beyond  ours,  all  such  things  must  be  in  their  hands 
easy.  Or  how  much  do  you  think  heaven  greater  than  thy- 
self— can  you  say,  perchance  ? 


412 


TEE  EAGLE'S  WEST. 


"  Chaerephon.  Who  of  men,  0  Socrates,  could  imagine  01 
name  any  of  these  things  ? 

196.  "Socrates.  Nay;  do  we  not  see  also,  in  comparing 
man  with  man,  strange  differences  in  their  powers  and  imbe- 
cilities :  for  complete  manhood,  compared  with  utter  infancy, 
as  of  a  child  five  or  ten  days  old,  has  difference  in  power, 
which  we  may  well  call  miraculous  :  and  when  we  see  man 
excel  man  so  far,  what  shall  we  say  that  the  strength  of  the 
whole  heaven  must  appear,  against  ours,  to  those  who  can  see 
them  together,  so  as  to  compare  them  ?  Also,  to  you  and  me, 
and  to  many  like  us,  sundry  things  are  impossible  that  are 
easy  to  other  people  ;  as  singing  to  those  ignorant  of  music, 
and  reading  or  writing  to  those  ignorant  of  letters  ; — more 
impossible  than  to  make  women  birds,  or  birds  of  women. 
For  Nature,  as  with  chance  throw,  and  rough  parable,  making 
the  form  of  a  footless  and  wingless  beast  in  changeable  mat- 
ter ;  then  putting  on  feet  and  wings,  and  making  it  glitter  all 
over  with  fair  variegation  and  manifold  colour,  at  last  brings 
out,  for  instance,  the  wise  bee,  maker  of  the  divine  honey  ; 
and  out  of  the  voiceless  and  spiritless  egg  she  brings  many 
kinds  of  flying  and  foot-going  and  swimming  creatures,  using 
besides  (as  runs  the  old  Logos),  the  sacred  art  of  the  great 
Aether.*  Y^e  then,  being  altogether  mortal  and  mean,  and 
neither  able  to  see  clearly  great  things  nor  small,  and,  for  the 
most  part  being  unable  to  help  ourselves  even  in  our  own 
calamities. — what  can  we  have  to  say  about  the  powers  of  the 
immortals,  either  over  halcyons  or  nightingales  ?  But  the 
fame  of  fable  such  as  our  fathers  gave  it  to  us,  this,  to  my 
children,  O  thou  bird  singing  of  sorrow,  I  will  deliver  con- 
cerning thy  hymns  :  and  I  myself  will  sing  often  of  this  re- 
ligious and  human  love  of  thine,  and  of  the  honour  thou  hast  for 
it  from  the  Gods.  Wilt  not  thou  do  likewise,  O  Chaerephon '? 

"  Chaerephon.  It  is  rightly  due  indeed,  O  Socrates,  for 
there  is  two-fold  comfort  in  this,  both  for  men  and  women, 
in  their  relations  with  each  other. 

\\ Socrates.  Shall  we  not  then  salute  the  halcyon,  and  so 
go  back  to  the  city  by  the  sands,  for  it  is  time. 

*  iSrote  this  sentence  respecting  the  power  of  the  creative  Athena. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


413 


"  Chaerephon.    Indeed  let  us  do  so." 

197.  The  note  of  the  scholiast  on  this  dialogue  is  the  only 
passage  in  which  I  can  find  any  approximately  clear  descrip- 
tion of  the  Greek  halcyon.  It  is  about  as  large,  he  says,  as  a 
small  sparrow  :  (the  question  how  large  a  Greek  sparrow  was 
we  must  for  the  present  allow  to  remain  open  ;)  and  it  is 
mixed  of  green  and  blue,  with  gleaming  of  purple  above,  and 
it  has  a  slender  and  long  beak  :  the  beak  is  said  to  be  "  chlo- 
ros,"  which  I  venture  to  translate  "green,"  when  it  is  used  of 
the  feathers,  but  it  may  mean  anything,  used  of  the  beak. 
Then  follows  the  same  account  as  other  people's,  of  the  nest- 
building,  except  that  the  nest  is  compared  in  shape  to  a  medi- 
cinal gourd.  And  then  the  writer  goes  on  to  say  that  there 
are  two  species  of  halcyons — one  larger  than  the  other,  and 
silent,  but  the  smaller,  fond  of  singing  (wSik^)  ;  and  that  the 
females  of  these  are  so  true  to  their  mates  that,  when  the  lat- 
ter grow  old,  the  female  bird  flies  underneath  them,  and  car- 
ries them  wherever  they  would  like  to  go  ;  and  after  they  die 
mil  not  eat  nor  drink  anything,  and  so  dies  too.  "  And  there 
is  a  certain  kind  of  them,  of  which,  if  any  one  hear  the  voice, 
it  is  an  altogether  true  sign  to  him  that  he  will  die  in  a  short 
time." 

198.  You  will,  I  think,  forgive  me,  if,  after  reading  to  you 
these  lovely  fables,  I  do  not  distract  you,  or  detain,  with  ih& 
difficult  investigation  of  the  degree  in  which  they  are  f  ouncied 
on  the  not  yet  sufficiently  known  facts  of  the  Kingfisher's  life. 

I  would  much  rather  that  you  should  remain  impressed  with 
the  effect  which  the  lovely  colour  and  fitful  appearance  of  the 
bird  have  had  on  the  imagination  of  men.  I  may  satisfy  you 
by  the  assurance  that  the  halcyon  of  England  is  also  the  com- 
monest halcyon  of  Greece  and  of  Palestine  ;  and  I  may  at  once 
prove  to  you  the  real  gain  of  being  acquainted  with  the  tradi- 
tions of  it,  by  reading  to  you  two  stanzas,  certainly  among 
the  most  familiar  to  your  ears  in  the  whole  range  of  English 
poetry  :  yet  which,  I  am  well  assured,  will  sound,  after  what 
we  have  been  reflecting  upon  to-day,  almost  as  if  they  were 
new  to  you.  Note  especially  how  Milton's  knowledge  that 
Halcyon  was  the  daughter  of  the  Winds,  and  Ceyx  the  son  of 


414 


THE  EAGLE'S  JYEST. 


the  Morning  Star,  affects  the  course  of  his  thought  in  the  suc- 
cessive stanzas — 

*'  But  peaceful  was  the  night, 
Wherein  the  Prince  of  light 

His  reign  of  peace  upon  the  earth  began : 
The  winds  with  wonder  whist, 
Smoothly  the  waters  kist, 

Whispering  new  joys  to  the  mild  ocean, 
Who  now  hath  quite  forgot  to  rave, 
While  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave. 

14  The  stars,  with  deep  amaze, 
Stand  fix'd  in  steadfast  gaze, 

Bending  one  way  their  precious  influence  ; 
And  will  not  take  their  flight, 
For  all  the  morning  light 

Of  Lucifer,  that  often  warn'd  them  thence  ; 
But  in  their  glimmering  orbs  did  glow, 
Until  their  Lord  himself  bespake,  and  bid  them  go." 

199.  I  should  also  only  weary  you  if  I  attempted  to  give 
you  any  interpretation  of  the  much-entangled  web  of  Greek 
fables  connected  with  the  story  of  Halcyone.  You  observe 
that  in  all  these  passages  I  have  said  "  King  of  Trachis  "  in- 
stead of  Ceyx.  That  is  partly  because  I  don't  know  how  to 
pronounce  Ceyx,  either  in  Greek  or  English  :  but  it  is  chiefly 
to  make  you  observe  that  this  story  of  the  sea-mew  and  Hal- 
cyon, now  known  through  all  the  world  like  the  sea-mew's 
cry,  has  its  origin  in  the  "  Rough  country,"  or  crag-country, 
under  Mount  (Eta,  made  sacred  to  the  Greek  mind  by  the 
death  of  Heracles  ;  and  observe  what  strange  connection  that 
death  has  with  the  Halcyon's  story.  Heracles  goes  to  this 
"  Rough  country  99  to  seek  for  rest ;  all  the  waves  and  billows 
of  his  life  having — as  he  thinks  now — gone  over  him.  But  he 
finds  death. 

As  far  as  I  can  form  any  idea  of  this  "  rough,  or  torn,  coun- 
try" from  the  descriptions  of  Colonel  Leake  or  any  other 
traveller,  it  must  resemble  closely  the  limestone  cliffs  just 
above  Altorf,  which  break  down  to  the  valley  from  the  ridge 
of  the  Windgelle,  and  give  source  at  their  foot,  to  faultlessly 
clear  streams, — green-blue  among  the  grass. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


415 


You  will  find  Pausanias  noting  the  springs  of  Thermopylae 
as  of  the  bluest  water  he  ever  saw  ;  and  if  you  fancy  the  Lake 
Lucerne  to  be  the  sea  bay  running  inland  from  Artemisinm, 
you  will  have  a  clear  and  useful,  nor  in  any  serious  way,  in- 
accurate, image  of  the  scene  where  the  Greeks  thought  their 
best  hero  should  die.  You  may  remember  also,  with  ad- 
vantage, that  Morgarten — the  Thermopylae  of  Switzerland — ■ 
lies  by  the  little  lake  of  Egeri,  not  ten  miles  from  this  bay  of 
Altorf ;  and  that  the  Heracles  of  Switzerland  is  born  under 
those  Trachinian  crags. 

If,  farther,  you  remember  that  the  Halcyon  would  actually 
be  seen  flitting  above  the  blue  water  of  the  springs,  like  one  of 
their  waves  caught  up  and  lighted  by  the  sun ;  and  the  sea-mews 
haunting  the  cliffs,  you  will  see  how  physical  circumstances 
modify  the  under-tone  of  the  words  of  every  mythic  tradition. 

I  cannot  express  to  you  how  strange — how  more  and  more 
strange  every  day — it  seems  to  me,  that  I  cannot  find  a  single 
drawing,  nor  definite  account,  of  scenes  so  memorable  as  this, 
to  point  you  to  ;  but  must  guess  and  piece  their  image  to- 
gether for  you  as  best  I  can  from  their  Swiss  similitudes.  No 
English  gentleman  can  pass  through  public  school-life  with- 
out knowing  his  Trachinise  ;  yet,  I  believe,  literally,  we  could 
give  better  account  of  the  forms  of  the  mountains  in  the 
moon,  than  we  could  of  (Eta.  And  what  has  art  done  to 
help  us  ?  How  many  Skiddaws  or  Benvenues,  for  one  (Eta, 
— if  one  !  And  when  the  English  gentleman  becomes  an  art- 
patron,  he  employs  his  painter-servant  only  to  paint  himself 
and  his  house  ;  and  when  Turner  was  striving,  in  his  youth, 
to  enforce  the  mythology,  and  picture  these  very  scenes  in 
Greece,  and  putting  his  whole  strength  into  the  endeavour  to 
conceive  them,  the  noble  pictures  remained  in  his  gallery  ; — 

and  for  bread,  he  had  to  paint  Hall,  the  seat  of  , 

Esquire,  with  the  carriage  drive,  the  summer-house,  and  the 
squire  going  out  hunting. 

If,  indeed,  the  squire  would  make  his  seat  worth  painting, 
and  would  stay  there,  and  would  make  the  seats,  or,  shall  we 
call  them,  forms,  of  his  peasantry,  worth  painting  too,  he 
would  be  interpreting  the  fable  of  the  Halcyon  to  purpose. 


416 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


But  you  must,  at  once,  and  without  any  interpreter,  feel 
for  yourselves  how  much  is  implied  in  those  wonderful  wrords 
of  Simonides — written  six  hundred  years  before  Christ ; — 
"  when  in  the  wild  winter  months,  Zeus  gives  the  wisdom  of 
calm ; "  and  how  much  teaching  there  is  for  us  in  this  imagi- 
nation of  past  days, — this  dream-picture  of  what  is  true  in  days 
that  are,  and  are  to  come, — that  perfect  domestic  love  not 
only  makes  its  nest  upon  the  waves,  but  that  the  waves  will 
be  calm  that  it  may. 

200.  True,  I  repeat,  for  all  ages,  and  all  people,  that,  in- 
deed, are  desirous  of  peace,  and  loving  in  trouble  !  But  what 
fable  shall  we  invent,  what  creature  on  earth  or  sea  shall  we 
find,  to  symbolize  this  state  of  ours  in  modern  England? 
To  what  sorrowful  birds  shall  we  be  likened,  who  make  the 
principal  object  of  our  lives  dispeace,  and  unrest ;  and  turn 
our  wives  and  daughters  out  of  their  nests,  to  work  for  them- 
selves ? 

Nay,  strictly  speaking,  we  have  not  even  got  so  much  as 
nests  to  turn  them  out  of.  I  was  infinitely  struck,  only  the 
other  day,  by  the  saying  of  a  large  landed  proprietor  (a  good 
man,  who  was  doing  all  he  could  for  his  tenantry,  and  build- 
ing new  cottages  for  them),  that  the  best  he  could  do  for 
them,  under  present  conditions  of  wages,  and  the  like,  was, 
to  give  them  good  drainage  and  bare  walls. 

uIam  obliged,"  he  said  to  me,  "to  give  up  all  thought  of 
anything  artistic,  and  even  then,  I  must  lose  a  considerable 
sum  on  every  cottage  I  build." 

201.  Now,  there  is  no  end  to  the  confused  states  of  wrong 
and  misery  which  that  landlord's  experience  signifies.  In  the 
first  place,  no  landlord  has  any  business  with  building  cot- 
tages for  his  people.  Every  peasant  should  be  able  to  build 
his  own  cottage, — to  build  it  to  his  mind  ;  and  to  have  a  mind 
to  build  it  to.  In  the  second  place,  note  the  unhappy  notion 
which  has  grown  up  in  the  modern  English  mind,  that  whole- 
some and  necessary  delight  in  what  is  pleasant  to  the  eye,  is 
artistic  affectation.  You  have  the  exponent  of  it  all  in  the 
central  and  mighty  affectation  of  the  Houses  of  Parliament. 
A  number  of  English  gentlemen  get  together  to  talk  ;  they 


THE  EA  GLE ' S  NEST. 


417 


have  no  delight  whatever  in  any  kind  of  beauty  ;  but  they 
have  a  vague  notion  that  the  appointed  place  for  their  con- 
versation should  be  dignified  and  ornamental ;  and  they  build 
over  their  combined  heads  the  absurdest  and  emptiest  pieco 
of  filigree, — and,  as  it  were,  eternal  foolscap  in  freestone, — > 
which  ever  human  beings  disgraced  their  posterity  by.  Well, 
all  that  is  done,  partly,  and  greatly,  in  mere  jobbery  ;  but 
essentially  also  in  a  servile  imitation  of  the  Hotel-de-Yille 
builders  of  old  time  ;  but  the  English  gentleman  has  not  the 
remotest  idea  that  when  H6tel-de-Villes  were  built,  the  ville 
enjoyed  its  hotel  ; — the  town  had  a  real  pride  in  its  town  hall, 
and  place  of  council,  and  the  sculptures  of  it  had  precious 
meaning  for  all  the  populace. 

202.  And  in  like  manner,  if  cottages  are  ever  to  be  wisely 
built  again,  the  peasant  must  enjoy  his  cottage,  and  be  him- 
self its  artist,  as  a  bird  is.  Shall  cock-robins  and  yellowham- 
mers  have  wit  enough  to  make  themselves  comfortable,  and 
bullfinches  peck  a  Gothic  tracery  out  of  dead  clematis, — and 
your  English  yeoman  be  fitted  by  his  landlord  with  four  dead 
walls  and  a  drain-pipe  ?  That  is  the  result  of  your  spending 
300,000/.  a  year  at  Kensington  in  science  and  art,  then  ?  You 
have  made  beautiful  machines,  too,  wherewith  you  save  the 
peasant  the  trouble  of  ploughing  and  reaping,  and  threshing ; 
and,  after  being  saved  all  that  time  and  toil,  and  getting,  one 
would  think,  leisure  enough  for  his  education,  you  have  to 
lodge  him  also,  as  you  drop  a  puppet  into  a  deal  box,  and  you 
lose  money  in  doing  it !  and,  two  hundred  years  ago,  without 
steam,  without  electricity,  almost  without  books,  and  alto- 
gether without  help  from  GasselVs  Educator  or  the  morning 
newspapers,  the  Swiss  shepherd  could  build  himself  a  chalet, 
daintily  carved,  and  with  flourished  inscriptions,  and  with  red 
and  blue  and  white  TroiKikla  ;  and  the  burgess  of  Strasburg 
could  build  himself  a  house  like  this  I  showed  you,  and  aspire 
such  as  all  men  know ;  and  keep  a  precious  book  or  two  in 
his  public  library,  and  praise  God  for  all :  while  we, — what 
are  we  good  for,  but  to  damage  the  spire,  knock  down  half 
the  houses,  and  burn  the  library, — and  declare  there  is  no 
God  but  Chemistry  ? 


418 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


203.  What  are  we  good  for  ?  Are  even  our  machines  of  de* 
struction  useful  to  us  ?  Do  they  give  us  real  power  ?  Once, 
indeed,  not  like  halcyons,  but  like  sea-eagles,  we  had  our 
homes  upon  the  sea  ;  fearless  alike  of  storm  or  enemy,  wringed 
like  the  wave  petrel ;  and  as  Arabs  of  an  indeed  pathless  des- 
ert, we  dwelt  in  the  presence  of  all  our  brethren.  Our  pride 
is  fallen  ;  no  reed  shaken  with  the  wind,  near  the  little  sing- 
ing halcyon's  nest,  is  more  tremulous  than  we  are  now  ; 
though  we  have  built  iron  nests  on  the  sea,  with  walls  impreg- 
nable. "We  have  lost  our  pride — but  have  we  gained  peace  ? 
Do  we  even  care  to  seek  it,  how  much  less  strive  to  make  it  ? 

204.  Have  you  ever  thought  seriously  of  the  meaning  of 
that  blessing  given  to  the  peacemakers  ?  People  are  always 
expecting  to  get  peace  in  heaven  ;  but  you  know  whatever 
peace  they  get  there  will  be  ready-made.  Whatever  making 
of  peace  they  can  be  blest  for,  must  be  on  the  earth  here  :  not 
the  taking  of  arms  against,  but  the  building  of  nests  amidst, 
its  "  sea  of  troubles."  Difficult  enough,  you  think?  Perhaps 
so,  but  I  do  not  see  that  any  of  us  try.  We  complain  of  the 
want  of  many  things — we  want  votes,  we  want  liberty,  we 
want  amusement,  we  want  money.  Which  of  us  feels,  or 
knows,  that  he  wants  peace  ? 

205.  There  are  two  ways  of  getting  it,  if  you  do  want  it. 
The  first  is  wholly  in  your  own  power ;  to  make  yourselves 
nests  of  pleasant  thoughts.  Those  are  nests  on  the  sea  in- 
deed, but  safe  beyond  all  others  ;  only  they  need  much  art  in 
the  building.  None  of  us  yet  know,  for  none  of  us  have  yet 
been  taught  in  early  youth,  what  fairy  palaces  we  may  build 
of  beautiful  thought — proof  against  all  adversity.  Bright 
fancies,  satisfied  memories,  noble  histories,  faithful  sayings, 
treasure-houses  of  precious  and  restful  thoughts,  which  care 
cannot  disturb,  nor  pain  make  gloomy,  nor  poverty  take  away 
from  us — houses  built  without  hands,  for  our  souls  to  live  in. 

206.  And  in  actual  life,  let  me  assure  you,  in  conclusion, 
the  first  '  wisdom  of  calm/  is  to  plan,  and  resolve  to  labour 
for,  the  comfort  and  beauty  of  a  home  such  as,  if  we  could 
obtain  it,  we  would  quit  no  more.  Not  a  compartment  of  a 
model  lodging-house,  not  the  number  so-and-so  of  Paradise 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


419 


Row ;  but  a  cottage  all  of  our  own,  with  its  little  garden,  its 
pleasant  view,  its  surrounding  fields,  its  neighbouring  stream, 
its  healthy  air,  and  clean  kitchen,  parlours,  and  bedrooms. 
Less  than  this,  no  man  should  be  content  with  for  his  nest ; 
more  than  this  few  should  seek  :  but  if  it  seem  to  you  impos- 
sible, or  wildly  imaginary,  that  such  houses  should  ever  be 
obtained  for  the  greater  part  of  the  English  people,  again  be- 
lieve me,  the  obstacles  which  are  in  the  way  of  our  obtaining 
them  are  the  things  which  it  must  be  the  main  object  now  of 
all  true  science,  true  art,  and  true  literature  to  overcome. 
Science  does  its  duty,  not  in  telling  us  the  causes  of  spots  in 
the  sun  ;  but  in  explaining  to  us  the  laws  of  our  own  life,  and 
the  consequences  of  their  violation.  Art  does  its  duty,  not  in 
filling  monster  galleries  with  frivolous,  or  dreadful,  or  inde- 
cent pictures  ;  but  in  completing  the  comforts  and  refining 
the  pleasures  of  daily  occurrence,  and  familiar  service  :  and 
literature  does  its  duty,  not  in  wasting  our  hours  in  political 
discussion,  or  in  idle  fiction  ;  but  in  raising  our  fancy  to  the 
height  of  what  may  be  noble,  honest,  and  felicitous  in  actual 
life  ; — in  giving  us,  though  we  may  ourselves  be  poor  and  un- 
known, the  companionship  of  the  wisest  fellow-spirits  of  every 
age  and  country, — and  in  aiding  the  communication  of  clear 
thoughts  and  faithful  purposes,  among  distant  nations,  which 
will  at  last  breathe  calm  upon  the  sea  of  lawless  passion,  and 
change  into  such  halcyon  days  the  winter  of  the  world,  that  the 
birds  of  the  air  may  have  their  nests  in  peace,  and  the  Son  of 
Man,  where  to  lay  his  head. 


LECTUEE  X. 

THE  HERALDIC  ORDINARIES. 

March  9th,  1872. 

207.  In  my  last  lecture,  I  endeavoured  to  illustrate  you  the 
use  of  art  to  the  science  of  physiology.  I  am  to-day  to  intro- 
duce to  you  its  elementary  forms  as  an  exponent  of  the  sci- 
ence of  history.    Which,  speaking  with  perfect  accuracy,  we 


420 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


ought  to  call,  also,  ' ' physiology/'  or  natural  history  of  man; 
for  it  ought  to  be  in  truth  the  history  of  his  Nature  ;  and  not 
merely  of  the  accidents  which  have  befallen  him.  Do  we  not 
too  much  confuse  the  important  part  of  the  science  with  the 
unimportant  ? 

In  giving  the  natural  history  of  the  lion,  you  do  not  care 
materially  where  such  and  such  a  lion  was  trapped,  or  how 
many  sheep  it  had  eaten.  You  want  to  know  what  sort  of  a 
minded  and  shaped  creature  it  is,  or  ought  to  be.  But  in  all 
our  books  of  human  history  we  only  care  to  tell  what  has  hap- 
pened to  men,  and  how  many  of  each  other  they  have,  in  a 
manner,  eaten,  when  they  are,  what  Homer  calls  Srjfxofiopoi, 
people-eaters  ;  and  we  scarcely  understand,  even  to  this  day, 
how  they  are  truly  minded.  Nay,  I  am  not  sure  that  even 
this  art  of  heraldry,  which  has  for  its  main  object  the  telling 
and  proclamation  of  our  chief  minds  and  characters  to  each 
other,  and  keeping  record  of  our  descent  by  race,  as  far  as  it 
is  possible,  (or,  under  the  present  aspect  of  Darwinism,  pleas- 
ant,) to  trace  it ; — I  am  not  sure  that  even  heraldry  has  al- 
ways understood  clearly  what  it  had  to  tell.  But  I  am  very 
sure  it  has  not  been  understood  in  the  telling. 

208.  Some  of  you  have,  I  hope,  looked  at  this  book*  of 
Arthur  Helps,  on  £War  and  Culture,' about  which  I  cannot 
now  say  what  I  would,  because  he  has  done  me  the  grace  of 
dedicating  it  to  me  ;  but  you  will  find  in  it,  directly  bearing 
on  our  present  subject,  this  story  about  heraldry  : 

"  A  friend  of  mine,  a  physician,  became  entangled  in  the 
crowd  at  Kennington  on  that  memorable  evening  when  a  great 
Chartist  row  wras  expected,  and  when  Louis  Napoleon  armed 
himself  with  a  constable's  staff  to  support  the  cause  of  order. 
My  friend  observed  a  young  man  of  pleasant  appearance,  who 
was  very  busy  in  the  crowd,  and  appeared  to  be  a  leader 
amongst  thorn.  Gradually,  by  the  pressure  of  the  crowd,  the 
two  wrere  brought  near  together,  and  the  good  doctor  had  some 
talk  with  this  fiery  partisan.  They  exchanged  confidences  ; 
and  to  his  astonishment,  the  doctor  found  that  this  furious 
young  Chartist  gained  his  livelihood,  and  a  very  good  livelihood 
*  Conversations  on  War  and  General  Culture. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


421 


too,  by  heraldic  painting — by  painting  the  coats-of-arms  upon 
carriages.  Now,  if  you  can  imagine  this  young  man's  darling 
enterprise  to  have  been  successful,  if  Chartism  had  prevailed,, 
what  would  have  become  of  the  painting  of  arms  upon  car- 
riage-panels ?  I  believe  that  my  good  doctor  insinuated  this 
suggestion  to  the  young  man,  and  that  it  was  received  with 
disdain.  I  must  own,  therefore,  that  the  utile,  even  when 
brought  home  to  a  man's  self,  has  much  less  to  do  with  peo« 
pie's  political  opinions  and  desires,  than  might  at  first  be  sup- 
posed. Indeed,  I  would  venture  to  maintain,  that  no  great 
change  has  ever  been  produced  in  the  world  by  motives  of  self- 
interest.  Sentiment,  that  thing  which  many  wise  people  affect 
to  despise,  is  the  commanding  thing  as  regards  popular  im- 
pulses and  popular  action." 

209.  This  last  sentence  would  have  been  wholly  true,  had 
Mr.  Helps  written  '  no  great  living  change.'  The  changes  of 
Dissolution  are  continually  produced  by  self-interest, — for  in- 
stance, a  great  number  of  the  changes  in  your  methods  of 
life  in  England  just  now,  and  many  of  those  in  your  moral 
temper,  are  produced  by  the  percentage  on  the  sale  of  iron. 
And  I  should  have  otherwise  interpreted  the  heroism  of  the 
young  Chartist,  and  said  that  he  was  moved  on  the  10th  of 
April,  by  a  deep  under-current  of  self-interest ;  that  by  over- 
throwing Lordship,  he  expected  to  get  much  more  for  him- 
self than  his  salary  as  an  heraldic  painter ;  and  that  he  had 
not,  in  painting  his  carriage-panels,  sentiment  enough,  or  even 
sentiment  at  all. 

"  Paint  me  my  arms, —  "said  Giotto,  as  the  youth  threw 
him  his  white  shield,  with  that  order,  — "  he  speaks  as  if  he 
were  one  of  the  Bardi  !  "  Our  English  panel-painter  had  lost 
the  consciousness  that  there  yet  remained  above  him,  so  much 
as  one,  of  the  Bardi. 

May  not  that  be  somewhat  the  Bardi's  fault  ?  in  that  they 
have  not  taught  their  Giottos,  lately,  the  function  of  heraldry, 
or  of  any  other  higher  historical  painting. 

W e  have,  especially,  to-day,  to  consider  what  that  function  is. 

210.  I  said  that  the  function  of  historical  painting,  in  rep- 
resenting animals,  is  to  discern  and  record  what  is  best  and 


422 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


most  beautiful  in  their  ways  of  life,  and  their  forms  ;  so  also, 
in  representing  man,  it  is  to  record  of  man  what  has  been 
best  in  his  acts  and  way  of  life,  and  fairest  in  his  form. 

But  this  way  of  the  life  of  man  has  been  a  long  one.  It  is 
difficult  to  know  it — more  difficult  to  judge  ;  to  do  either  with 
complete  equity  is  impossible  ;  but  it  is  always  possible  to  do 
it  with  the  charity  which  does  not  rejoice  in  iniquity. 

211.  Among  the  many  mistakes  we  have  lately  fallen  into, 
touching  that  same  charit}-,  one  of  the  worst  is  our  careless 
habit  of  always  thinking  of  her  as  pitiful,  and  to  be  concerned 
only  with  miserable  and  wretched  persons  ;  whereas  her  chief 
joy  is  in  being  reverent,  and  concerned  mainly  with  noble  and 
venerable  persons.  Her  poorest  function  is  the  giving  of 
pity  ;  her  highest  is  the  giving  of  praise.  For  there  are  many 
men,  who,  however  fallen,  do  not  like  to  be  pitied  ;  but  all 
men,  however  far  risen,  like  to  be  praised. 

212.  I  had  occasion  in  my  last  lecture  to  express  my  regret 
that  the  method  of  education  in  this  country  has  become  so 
distinctly  competitive.  It  is  necessary,  however,  to  distin- 
guish carefully  between  the  competition  which  is  for  the 
means  of  existence,  and  that  which  is  for  the  praise  of  learn- 
ing. For  my  own  part,  so  far  as  they  affect  our  studies  here, 
I  equally  regret  both  :  but  competition  for  money  I  regret  ab- 
solutely ;  competition  for  praise,  only  when  it  sets  the  reward 
for  too  short  and  narrow  a  race.  I  want  you  to  compete,  not 
for  the  praise  of  what  you  know,  but  for  the  praise  of  what 
you  become  ;  and  to  compete  only  in  that  great  school,  where 
death  is  the  examiner,  and  God  the  judge.  For  you  will  find, 
if  you  look  into  your  own  hearts,  that  the  two  great  delights, 
in  loving  and  praising,  and  the  two  great  thirsts,  to  be  loved 
and  praised,  are  the  roots  of  all  that  is  strong  in  the  deeds 
of  men,  and  happy  in  their  repose.  We  yet,  thank  Heaven, 
are  not  ashamed  to  acknowledge  the  power  of  love ;  but  we 
confusedly  and  doubtfully  allege  that  of  honour  ;  and  though 
we  cannot  but  instinctively  triumph  still,  over  a  won  boat-race, 
I  suppose  the  best  of  us  would  shrink  somewhat  from  declar- 
ing that  the  love  of  praise  was  to  be  one  of  the  chief  motives 
of  their  future  lives. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


423 


213.  But  I  believe  you  will  find  it,  if  you  think,  not  only 
one  of  the  chief,  but  absolutely  the  chief,  motive  of  human 
action  ;  nay,  that  love  itself  is,  in  its  highest  state,  the  ren- 
dering of  an  exquisite  praise  to  body  and  soul ;  and  our  Eng- 
lish tongue  is  very  sacred  in  this ;  for  its  Saxon  word,  love,  is 
connected,  through  the  old  French  verb,  loer,  (whence  lou- 
ange),  with  the  Latin,  '  laus/  not  *  amor.' 

And  you  may  sum  the  duty  of  your  life  in  the  giving  of 
praise  worthily,  and  being  yourselves  worthy  of  it. 

214.  Therefore  in  the  reading  of  all  history,  your  first  pur- 
pose must  be  to  seek  what  is  to  be  praised  ;  and  disdain  the 
rest :  and  in  doing  so,  remember  always  that  the  most  im- 
portant part  of  the  history  of  man  is  that  of  his  imagination. 
What  he  actually  does,  is  always  in  great  part  accidental ;  it 
is  at  best  a  partial  fulfilment  of  his  purpose  ;  and  what  we 
call  history  is  often,  as  I  said,  merely  a  record  of  the  exter- 
nal accidents  which  befall  men  getting  together  in  large 
crowds.  The  real  history  of  mankind  is  that  of  the  slow  ad- 
vance of  resolved  deed  following  laboriously  just  thought  ; 
and  all  the  greatest  men  live  in  their  purpose  and  effort  more 
than  it  is  possible  for  them  to  live  in  reality.  If  you  would 
praise  them  worthily,  it  is  for  what  they  conceived  and  felt  ; 
not  merely  for  what  they  have  done. 

215.  It  is  therefore  a  true  historian's  work  diligently  to 
separate  the  deed  from  the  imagination  ;  and  when  these  be- 
come inconsistent,  to  remember  that  the  imagination,  if  pre- 
cious at  all,  is  indeed  the  most  precious.  It  is  no  matter  how 
much,  or  how  little  of  the  two  first  books  of  Livy  may  be  lit- 
erally true.  The  history  of  the  Romans  is  the  history  of  the 
nation  which  could  conceive  the  battle  of  the  Lake  Eegillus. 
I  have  rowed  in  rough  weather  on  the  Lake  of  the  four  can- 
tons often  enough  to  know  that  the  legend  of  Tell  is,  in  literal 
detail,  absurd  :  but  the  history  of  Switzerland  is  that  of  the 
people  who  expressed  their  imagination  of  resistance  to  in- 
justice by  that  legend,  so  as  to  animate  their  character  vitally 
to  this  day. 

216.  But  in  no  part  of  history  does  the  ideal  separate  itself 
bo  far  from  the  reality ;  and  in  no  part  of  it  is  the  ideal  so 


424 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


necessary  and  noble,  as  in  your  own  inherited  history — that 
of  Christian  Chivalry. 

For  all  English  gentlemen,  this  is  the  part  of  the  tale  of 
the  race  of  man  which  it  is  most  essential  for  them  to  know. 
They  may  he  proud  that  it  is  also  the  greatest  part.  All  that 
hitherto  has  been  achieved  at  best, — all  that  has  been  in 
noble  preparation  instituted, — is  begun  in  the  period,  and 
rooted  in  the  conception,  of  Chivalry. 

You  must  always  carefully  distinguish  that  conception  from 
the  base  strength  of  the  resultless  passions  which  distort  and 
confuse  it.  Infinitely  weaker,  the  idea  is  eternal  and  creative  ; 
the  clamorous  rages  pass  away, — ruinous  it  may  be,  prosper- 
ous it  may  be,  for  their  time  ; — but  insignificant  for  ever. 
You  find  kings  and  priests  alike,  always  inventing  expedients 
to  get  money  ;  you  find  kings  and  priests  alike,  always  invent- 
ing pretexts  to  gain  power.  If  you  want  to  write  a  practical 
history  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  to  trace  the  real  reasons  of 
the  things  that  actually  happened,  investigate  first  the  history 
of  the  money  ;  and  then  of  the  quarrels  for  office  and  terri- 
tory. But  the  things  that  actually  happened  wrere  of  small 
consequence — the  thoughts  that  were  developed  are  of  infinite 
consequence. 

217.  As  I  was  walking  back  from  Hincksey  last  evening, 
somewhat  discomforted  by  the  look  of  bad  weather,  and  more 
in  myself,  as  I  thought  over  this  closing  lecture,  wondering 
how  far  you  thought  I  had  been  talking  idly  to  you,  instead 
of  teaching  you  to  draw,  through  this  term,  I  stopped  before 
Messrs.  Wyatt's  window ;  caught — as  it  was  intended  every 
one  should  be, — by  its  display  of  wonderful  things.  And  I 
was  very  unhappy  as  I  looked,  for  it  seemed  to  me  you  could 
not  but  think  the  little  I  could  show  you  how  to  do  quite 
valueless  ;  while  here  were  produced,  by  mysteries  of  craft 
which  you  might  expect  me  at  once  to  explain,  brilliant  water- 
colours  in  purple  and  gold,  and  photographs  of  sea- waves,  and 
chromolithotints  of  beautiful  young  ladies,  and  exquisitely 
finished  engravings  of  all  sorts  of  interesting  scenes,  and  sub- 
lime personages  ;  patriots,  saints,  martyrs,  penitents,  and  who 
not !  and  what  not !  all  depicted  with  a  dexterity  which  it  has 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


425 


cost  the  workmen  their  life's  best  energy  to  fearn,  and  re- 
quires great  cleverness  thus  to  apply.  While,  in  your  room  for 
study,  there  are  only  ugly  photographs  of  D'urers  and  Hoi- 
beins,  and  my  rude  outlines  from  leaves,  and  you  scarcely  ever 
hear  me  say  anything  in  praise  of  that  delightful  and  elaborate 
modern  art  at  all. 

218.  So  I  bought  this  Madonna,*  which  was  the  prettiest 
thing  I  saw  ;  and  it  will  enable  me  to  tell  you  why  this  mod- 
ern art  is,  indeed,  so  little  to  be  studied,  even  at  its  best.  I 
think  you  will  all  like  the  plate,  and  you  ought  to  like  it ;  but 
observe  in  what  its  beauty  consists.  First,  in  very  exquisite 
line  engraving :  against  that  I  have  nothing  to  say,  feeling 
the  greatest  respect  for  the  industry  and  skill  it  requires. 
Next,  in  a  grace  and  severity  of  action  which  we  all  are  ready 
to  praise  ;  but  this  is  not  the  painter's  own  bestowing  ;  the 
trick  of  it  is  learned  from  Memling  and  Van  Eyck,  and  other 
men  of  the  northern  religious  school.  The  covering  of  the 
robe  with  jewels  is  pleasing  to  you  ;  but  that  is  learned  from 
Angelico  and  John  Bellini  ;  and  if  you  will  compare  the 
jewel-painting  in  the  John  Bellini  (Standard  No.  5),  you  will 
find  this  false  and  formal  in  comparison.  Then  the  face  is 
much  dignified  by  having  a  crown  set  on  it — which  is  copied 
from  the  ordinary  thirteenth  century  form,  and  ill  done.  The 
face  itself  is  studied  from  a  young  German  mother's,  and  is 
only  by  the  painter's  want  of  skill  made  conventional  in  ex- 
pression, and  formal  in  feature.  It  would  have  been  wiser 
and  more  difficult  to  have  painted  her  as  Kaphael  or  Reynolds 
would,  with  true  personal  resemblance,  perfected  in  expression. 

219.  Nevertheless,  in  its  derivative  way,  this  is  very  lovely. 
But  I  wish  you  to  observe  that  it  is  derivative  in  all  things. 
The  dress  is  derivative  ;  the  action,  derivative  :  above  all,  the 
conception  is  derivative  altogether,  from  that  great  age  oi 
Christian  chivalry,  which,  in  art  and  thought  alike,  surpassed 
the  Greek  chivalry,  because  it  added  to  their  enthusiasm  of 
patriotism  the  enthusiasm  of  imaginative  love,  sanctioned  by 
this  ruling  vision  of  the  Madonna,  as  at  once  perfect  maid 
and  perfect  mother. 

*  Now,  Ref.  104, 


426 


TEE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


And  your  study  of  the  art  of  the  middle  ages  must  begin 
in  your  understanding  how  the  men  of  them  looked  on  Love 
as  the  source  of  all  honour,  as  of  life  ;  and  how,  from  the 
least  thing  to  the  greatest,  the  honouring  of  father  and 
mother,  the  noble  esteem  of  children,  and  the  sincere  respect 
for  race,  and  for  the  courtesies  and  prides  that  graced  and 
crowned  its  purity,  were  the  sources  of  all  their  virtue,  and  all 
their  joy. 

220.  From  the  least  things,  I  say,  to  the  greatest.  I  am  to 
speak  to-day  of  one  of  apparently  the  least  things  ;  which  is, 
indeed,  one  of  the  greatest.  How  much  of  the  dignity  of  this 
Madonna,  do  you  suppose,  depends  on  the  manner  she  bears 
her  dress,  her  crown,  her  jewels,  and  her  sceptre  ? 

In  peasant  and  prince  alike,  you  will  find  that  ultimately, 
character  is  truly  heralded  in  dress ;  and  that  splendour  m 
dress  is  as  necessary  to  man  as  colour  to  birds  and  flowers, 
but  splendour  with  more  meaning.  Splendour,  observe,  how- 
ever, in  the  true  Latin  sense  of  the  word  ;  brightness  of  colour ; 
not  gaudiness  :  what  I  have  been  telling  you  of  colour  in  pict- 
ures will  apply  equally  to  colour  in  dress :  vulgarity  consists 
in  the  insolence  and  discord  of  it,  not  in  brightness. 

221.  For  peasant  and  prince  alike,  in  healthy  national  order, 
brightness  of  dress  and  beautiful  arrangement  of  it  are  need- 
ful. No  indication  of  moral  decline  is  more  sure  than  the 
squalor  of  dress  among  the  lower  orders,  and  the  fear  or 
shame  of  the  higher  classes  to  bear  their  proper  insignia. 

Such  fear  and  shame  are  singularly  expressed,  here  in  Ox- 
ford, at  this  hour.  The  nobleman  ceases  to  wear  the  golden 
tassel  in  his  cap,  so  accepting,  and  publicly  heralding  his  ac- 
ceptance of,  the  popular  opinion  of  him  that  he  has  ceased  to 
be  a  nobleman,  or  noteworthy  person.*    And  the  members  of 

*  "Another  stride  that  has  been  taken  appears  in  the  perishing  of 
heraldry.  Whilst  the  privileges  of  nobility  are  passing  to  the  middle 
class,  the  badge  is  discredited,  and  the  titles  of  lordship  are  getting 
musty  and  cumbersome.  I  wonder  that  sensible  men  have  not  been 
already  impatient  of  them.  They  belong,  with  wigs,  powder,  and 
scarlet  coats,  to  an  earlier  age,  and  may  be  advantageously  consigned 
with  paint  and  tattoo,  to  the  dignitaries  of  Australia  and  Polynesia."- 
R.  W.  Emerson  (English  Traits.) 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


427 


the  University,  generally,  shrink  from  wearing  their  academi- 
cal dress,  so  accepting,  and  publicly  heralding  their  acceptance 
of,  the  popular  opinion  that  everybody  else  may  be  as  good 
scholars  as  they.  On  the  other  hand,  I  see  continually  in  the 
streets  young  men  in  bright  costumes  of  blue  and  white  ;  in 
such  evidently  proud  heraldry  proclaiming  their  conviction 
that  the  chief  object  of  residence  in  Oxford  is  learning  to 
row  ;  the  rowing  itself  being,  I  imagine,  not  for  real  boat 
service,  but  for  purposes  of  display. 

222.  All  dress  is  thus  heraldic  ;  a  soldier's  dress  only  more 
definitely  so,  in  proclaiming  the  thing  he  means  to  die  as  well 
as  to  live  for ;  but  all  is  heraldic,  from  the  beggar's  rag  to  the 
king's  diadem  ;  it  may  be  involuntarily,  it  may  be,  insolently  ; 
but  when  the  characters  of  men  are  determined,  and  wise,  their 
dress  becomes  heraldic  reverently,  and  in  order.  "  Togam  e 
tugurio  proferre  uxorem  Raciliam  jubet ; "  and  Edie  Ochil- 
tree's blue  gown  is  as  honourably  heraldic  as  a  knight's  ermine. 

223.  The  beginning  of  heraldry,  and  of  all  beautiful  dress, 
is,  however,  simply  in  the  wearing  of  the  skins  of  slain  ani- 
mals. You  may  discredit,  as  much  as  you  choose,  the  literal 
meaning  of  that  earliest  statement,  "  Unto  Adam  also,  and  to 
his  wife,  did  the  Lord  God  make  coats  of  skins,  and  clothed 
them  ; "  but  the  figurative  meaning  of  it  only  becomes  the 
stronger.  For  if  you  think  of  the  skins  of  animals  as  giving 
the  four  great  materials  of  dress — leather,  fur,  wool,  and 
down,  you  will  see  in  this  verse  the  summary  of  what  has  ever 
since  taken  place  in  the  method  of  the  providence  of  the 
Maker  of  Man  and  beast,  for  the  clothing  of  the  naked  creat- 
ure who  was  to  rule  over  the  rest. 

224.  The  first  practical  and  savage  use  of  such  dress  was 
that  the  skin  of  the  head  of  the  beast  became  a  covering  for 
the  head  of  its  sla}^er  :  the  skin  of  its  body  his  coat  ;  the  skin 
of  the  fore  legs  was  knotted  in  front,  and  the  skin  of  the  hind 
legs  and  tail  became  tassels,  the  jags  of  the  cut  edges  forming 
a  kind  of  fringe  here  and  there. 

You  have  thus  the  first  conception  of  a  helmet,  with  the 
mane  of  the  animal  for  its  crest  or  plume,  and  the  first  con- 
ception of  a  cuirass,  variously  fringed,  striped,  or  spotted :  in 


428 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


complete  accoutrement  for  war,  you  have  to  add  spear,  (or  ar- 
row), and  shield.  The  spear  is  properly  a  beam  of  wood,  iron 
pointed  ;  the  shield  a  disk  of  leather,  iron  fronted. 

And  armed  strength  for  conduct  is  symbolized  for  all  future 
time  by  the  Greeks,  under  the  two  types  of  Heracles  and 
Athena  ;  the  one  with  the  low  lion's  crest  and  the  arrow,  the 
other  with  the  high  horse's  crest,  and  the  spear  ;  one  with  the 
lion-skin,  the  other  with  the  goat-skin  ; — both  with  the  round 
shield. 

225.  The  nebris  of  Dionusos,  and  leopard-skin  of  the 
priests  of  Egypt  relate  to  astronomy,  not  war  ;  and  the  inter- 
est in  their  spots  and  bars,  as  variously  symbolic,  together 
with  real  pleasure  in  their  grotesqueness,  greatly  modified  the 
entire  system  of  Egyptian  colour-decoration.  On  the  earliest 
Greek  vases,  also,  the  spots  and  bars  of  the  animals  are  car- 
ried out  in  spots  or  chequers  upon  the  ground  (sometimes 
representing  flowers),  and  the  delight  in  c 4  divers  colours  of 
needlework,"  and  in  fantasy  of  embroidery,  gradually  refine 
and  illumine  the  design  of  Eastern  dress.  But  only  the  pat- 
terns derived  from  the  colours  of  animals  become  classical  in 
heraldry  under  the  general  name  of  "furres,"  one  of  them 
"  vaire  "  or  "  verrey  "  ((i  the  variegated  fur,")  rudely  figuring 
the  material  composed  of  the  skins  of  small  animals  sewn  to- 
gether, alternately  head  to  tail ;  the  other,  ermine,  peculiarly 
honourable,  from  the  costliness,  to  southern  nations,  of  the 
fur  it  represents. 

226.  The  name  of  the  principal  heraldic  colour  has  a  simi- 
lar origin  :  the  "  rams  •  skins  dyed  red  "  which  were  used  for 
the  curtains  of  the  Jewish  tabernacle,  were  always  one  of  the 
principal  articles  of  commerce  between  the  east  and  west :  in 
mediaeval  Latin  they  were  called  Ci  gulae,"  and  in  the  French 
plural  "  gules,"  so  that  to  be  dressed  in  "  gules  "  came  grad- 
ually to  mean  being  dressed  in  the  particular  red  of  those 
skins,  which  was  a  full  soft  scarlet,  not  dazzling,  but  warm 
and  glowing.  It  is  used,  in  opposition  to  darker  purple,  in 
large  masses  in  the  fresco  painting  of  later  Rome  ; — is  the 
dominant  colour  of  ornamental  writing  in  the  middle  ages 
(giving  us  the  ecclesiastical  term  "  rubric  "),  and  asserts  itself 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


429 


finally,  arid  most  nobly,  in  the  fresco  paintings  of  Ghirlandajo 
and  Luini.  I  have  tried  to  represent  very  closely  the  tint  of 
it  Luini  has  given  to  St.  Catherine's  mantle,  in  my  study  in 
your  schools.  Titian  keeps  it  also  as  the  key-note  of  his  fres- 
coes ;  so  also  Tintoret ;  but  Eaphael,  Correggio,  and  Michael 
Angelo,  all  substituted  orange  for  it  in  opposition  to  purple  ; 
and  the  entire  scheme  of  colour  in  the  Vatican  frescoes  is  of 
orange  and  purple,  broken  by  green  and  white,  on  a  ground  of 
grey.  This  orange  and  purple  opposition  in  meaner  hands  be- 
came gaudy  and  feeble,  and  the  system  of  mediaeval  colour  was 
at  last  totally  destroyed  by  it;  the  orange  remaining  to  this  day 
the  favourite,  and  most  distinctive,  hue  in  bad  glass  painting. 

227.  The  forms  of  dress,  however,  derived  from  the  skins  of 
animals  are  of  much  more  importance  than  the  colours.  Of 
these  the  principal  is  the  crest,  which  is  properly  the  mane  of 
lion  or  horse.  The  skin  of  the  horse  was  neither  tough,  nor 
of  convenient  size  for  wearing  ;  but  the  classical  Greek  helmet 
is  only  an  adaptation  of  the  outline  of  its  head,  with  the  mane 
floating  behind  :  many  Etruscan  helmets  have  ears  also, 
while,  in  mediaeval  armour,  light  plates,  cut  into  the  shape  of 
wings  of  birds,  are  often  placed  on  each  side  of  the  crest, 
which  then  becomes  not  the  mane  of  the  animal  merely,  but 
the  image  of  the  entire  creature  which  the  warrior  desires  to 
be  renowned  for  having  slain. 

228.  The  Heraldic  meaning  of  the  crest  is  accordingly,  first, 
that  the  Knight  asserts  himself  to  have  prevailed  over  the  an- 
imal it  represents  ;  and  to  be  stronger  than  such  a  creature 
would  be,  therefore,  against  his  human  enemies.  Hence, 
gradually,  he  considers  himself  invested  with  the  power  and 
character  of  the  slain  creature  itself  ;  and,  as  it  were,  to  have 
taken  from  it,  for  his  spoil,  not  its  skin  only,  but  its  strength. 
The  crest,  therefore,  is  the  heraldic  indication  of  personality, 
and  is  properly  to  be  distinguished  from  the  bearing  on  the 
shield,  because  that  indicated  race ;  but  the  crest,  personal 
character  and  valour. 

229.  I  have  traced  the  practical  truth  which  is  the  founda- 
tion of  this  idea  of  the  transmitted  strength  of  the  slain  creat- 
ure becoming  the  inheritance  of  its  victor,  in  the  account 


430 


THE  EAGLES  NEST. 


given  of  the  coins  of  Camarina,  in  the  Queen  of  the  Air.  But 
it  is  strange  and  sad  to  reflect  how  much  misery  has  resulted, 
in  the  history  of  man,  from  the  imaginative  excuse  for  cruelty 
afforded  by  the  adopted  character  of  savage  animals  ;  and  how 
many  wolves,  bears,  lions,  and  eagles,  have  been  national  sym- 
bols, instead  of  gentler  creatures.  Even  the  heraldic  symbol  of 
Christ  is  in  Italy  oftener  the  lion  than  the  lamb :  and  among  the 
innumerable  painters  of  his  Desert  Prophet,  only  Filippo 
Lippi  understood  the  full  meaning  of  the  raiment  of  camel's 
hair,  and  made  him  wear  the  camel's  skin,  as  Heracles  the 
Lion's. 

230.  Although  the  crest  is  thus  essentially  an  expression  of 
personal  character,  it  practically  becomes  hereditary  ;  and  the 
sign  on  shield  and  helmet  is  commonly  the  same.  But  the 
shield  has  a  system  of  bearings  peculiar  to  itself,  to  which  I 
wish  especially  to  direct  your  attention  to-day. 

Our  word  c  shield '  and  the  German  '  schild '  mean  '  the  cov- 
ering thing/  that  behind  which  you  are  sheltered,  but  you 
must  be  careful  to  distinguish  it  from  the  word  shell,  which 
means  properly  a  scale  or  plate,  developed,  like  a  fish's  scale, 
for  the  protection  of  the  body. 

There  are  properly  only  two  kinds  of  shields,  one  round  and 
the  other  square,  passing  into  oval  and  oblong ;  the  round 
one  being  for  use  in  free  action,  the  square  one  for  adjustment 
to  ground  or  walls  ;  but,  on  horseback,  the  lower  part  of  the 
shield  must  be  tapered  off,  in  order  to  fall  conveniently  on 
the  left  side  of  the  horse. 

And,  therefore,  practically,  you  have  two  great  forms  of 
shield  ;  the  Greek  round  one,  for  fighting  on  foot,  or  in  the 
chariot,  and  the  Gothic  pointed  one  for  fighting  on  horseback. 
The  oblong  one  for  motionless  defence  is,  however,  almost 
always  given  to  the  mythic  figure  of  Fortitude,  and  the  bear- 
ings of  the  Greek  and  Gothic  shields  are  always  designed  with 
reference  to  the  supposed  figures  of  the  circle  and  square. 

The  Greek  word  for  the  round  shield  is  *•  aspis.'  I  have  no 
doubt  merely  a  modification  of  'apsis'  the  potter's  wheel; 
the  proper  word  for  the  Gothic  shield  is  '  ecu  '  from  the  Latin 
'  scutum,'  meaning  a  shield  covered  with  leather.    From  '  ecu  ? 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


431 


you  have  4  ecuyer  ; ' — from  scutum  '  scutiger/  both  passing 
into  our  English  '  squire/ 

231.  The  aspis  of  the  Greeks  might  be  much  heavier  than 
the  Gothic  shield,  because  a  Greek  never  rode  fully  armed  ; 
his  object  was  to  allow  both  to  his  horse  and  to  himself  the 
most  perfect  command  of  limb  compatible  with  protection  ; 
if,  therefore,  he  was  in  full  armour,  and  wanted  his  horse  to 
carry  him,  he  put  a  board  upon  wheels,  and  stood  on  that, 
harnessing  sometimes  to  it  four  horses  of  the  highest  breed 
abreast.  Of  all  hitherto  practised  exertions  of  manual  dex- 
terity, the  driving  thus  at  full  speed  over  rough  ground,  stand- 
ing in  the  chariot,  is,  as  far  as  I  know,  the  greatest  ever  at- 
tained by  general  military  discipline. 

It  is  true  that  to  do  anything  perfectly  well  is  about  equally 
difficult ;  and  I  suppose  that  in  a  chariot  race,  a  tournament, 
or  a  modern  game  at  cricket,  the  manual  art  of  the  most 
highly-trained  men  would  be  almost  equally  fine ;  still,  prac- 
tically, in  Gothic  chivalry,  the  knight  trusted  more  to  his 
weight  and  less  to  his  skill  than  a  Greek  did ;  nor  could  a 
horse's  pace  under  armour  ever  render  precision  of  aim  so 
difficult  as  at  unarmed  speed. 

232.  Another  great  difference  of  a  parallel  kind  exists  in 
the  knight's  body-armour.  A  Greek  never  hopes  to  turn  a 
lance  by  his  cuirass,  nor  to  be  invulnerable,  except  by  en- 
chantment, in  his  body  armour,  because  he  will  not  have  it 
cumbrous  enough  to  impede  his  movements ;  but  he  makes 
his  shield,  if  possible,  strong  enough  to  stop  a  lance,  and  car- 
ries it  as  he  would  a  piece  of  wall :  a  Gothic  knight,  on  the 
contrary,  endeavoured  to  make  his  coat  armour  invulnerable, 
and  carried  the  shield  merely  to  ward  thrusts  on  the  left  side, 
never  large  enough  to  encumber  the  arm  that  held  the  reins. 
All  fine  design  in  Gothic  heraldry  is  founded,  therefore,  on 
the  form  of  a  short,  but  pointed  shield,  convex  enough  to 
throw  the  point  of  a  spear  aside  easily  ;  a  form  roughly  ex- 
tending from  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  to  the  middle  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  but  of  which  the  most  beautiful  types 
are  towards  the  end  of  the  thirteenth. 

233.  The  difference  in  method  of  device  between  the  Gothic 


432 


THE  EAGLE'S  WEST. 


and  classic  shields  resulted  partly  from  this  essential  differ, 
ence  in  form.  The  pointed  shield,  having  definitely  two  sides, 
like  a  pointed  arch,  and  a  determined  position,  naturally  sug- 
gested an  arrangement  of  bearings  definitely  on  one  side  or 
the  other,  or  above,  or  below  the  centre,  while  the  Greek 
shield  had  its  boss,  or  its  main  bearing,  in  the  centre  always, 
with  subordinate  decoration  round.  Farther,  the  Gothic  fine- 
ness of  colour-instinct  seized  at  once  on  this  division  of  parts 
as  an  opportunity  for  inlaying  or  counterchanging  colours  ; 
and  finally,  the  respect  for  race,  carried  out  by  registry  of  the 
remotest  branches  of  noble  families,  compelled  the  Gothic 
heralds  of  later  times  to  use  these  methods  of  dividing  or 
quartering  in  continually  redoubled  complexity. 

234.  Essentially,  therefore,  as  distinguished  from  the  classic 
shield,  the  Gothic  one  is  parti-coloured  beneath  its  definite 
bearings,  or  rather,  bi-coloured  ;  for  the  tinctures  are  never 
more  than  two  in  the  main  design  of  them  ;  and  the  specific 
methods  of  arrangement  of  these  two  masses  of  colour  have 
deeper  and  more  ancient  heraldic  significance  than,  with  few 
exceptions,  their  superimposed  bearings.  I  have  arranged 
the  twelve  principal  ones  *  in  the  7th  of  your  rudimentary  ex- 
ercises, and  they  will  be  entirely  fixed  in  your  minds  by  once 
drawing  it. 

235.  Observe  respecting  them. 

1.  The  Chief e  ;  a  bar  of  colour  across  the  upper  part  of  the 
shield,  signifies  authority  or  chief -dom,  as  the  source  of  all  or- 
der, power,  and  peace. 

2.  The  Cross,  as  an  ordinary,  distinguished  from  the  cross 
as  a  bearing,  consists  simply  of  two  bars  dividing  the  shield 
into  four  quarters  ;  and,  I  believe,  that  it  does  not  in  this 
form  stand  properly  as  a  symbol  of  Christian  faith,  but  only 
as  one  of  Christian  patience  and  fortitude.  The  cross  as  a 
symbol  of  faith  is  terminated  within  the  field. 

*  Charges  which  14  doe  peculiarly  belong  to  this  art,  and  are  of  ordi- 
nary use  therein,  in  regard  whereof  they  are  called  'ordinaries.'  " — See 
Guillim,  sect.  ii.  chap.  iii.  (Ed.  1638.) 

' '  They  have  also  the  title  of  honourable  ordinaries  in  that  the  court 
armour  is  much  honoured  thereby."  The  French  call  them  ''pieces 
honorables. " 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


433 


3.  The  Fesse,  a  horizontal  bar  across  the  middle  of  the 
shield,  represents  the  knight's  girdle,  or  anything  that  binds 
and  secures,  or  continues.  The  word  is  a  corruption  of  fascia. 
Sir  Francis  Drake  received  for  arms  from  Queen  Elizabeth  a 
Fesse  waved  between  two  pole-stars,  where  it  stands  for  the 
waved  surface  of  the  sea,  and  partly,  also,  to  signify  that  Sir 
Francis  put  a  girdle  round  the  earth  ;  and  the  family  of 
Drummond  carries  three  diminutive  Fesses,  or  bars,  waved, 
because  their  ancestor  brought  Queen  Margaret  safe  through 
many  storms. 

4.  The  Bend,  an  oblique  bar  descending  from  right  to  left 
of  the  holder  of  the  shield,  represents  the  sword-belt.  The 
Latin  balteus  and  balteum  are,  I  believe,  the  origin  of  the 
word.  They  become  bendellus  and  bendellum  ;  then  bandeau 
and  bande.  Ben  da  is  the  word  used  for  the  riband  round  the 
neck  of  St.  Etheldreda,  in  the  account  of  her  death  quoted 
by  Du  Cange.  I  believe,  also,  the  fesse  stands  often  for  the 
cross-bar  of  the  castle  gate,  and  the  bend  for  its  very  useful 
diagonal  bar  :  this  is  only  a  conjecture,  but  I  believe  as  likely 
to  be  true  as  the  idea,  certainly  admitted  in  heraldry,  that  the 
bend  sometimes  stands  for  a  scaling  ladder :  so  also  the  next 
four  most  important  ordinaries  have  all  an  architectural  sig- 
nificance. 

5.  The  Pale,  an  upright  bar  dividing  the  shield  in  half,  is 
simply  an  upright  piece  of  timber  in  a  palisade.  It  signifies 
either  defence  or  enclosure. 

.  6.  The  Pile,  a  wedge-shaped  space  of  colour  with  the  point 
downwards,  represents  what  we  still  call  a  pile  ;  a  piece  of 
timber  driven  into  moist  ground  to  secure  the  foundation  of 
any  building. 

7.  The  Canton,  a  square  space  of  colour  in  either  of  the 
upper  corners  of  the  shield,  signifies  the  corner-stone  of  a 
building.  The  origin  and  various  use  of  this  word  are  very 
interesting.  The  Greek  Kav#os,  used  by  Aristotle  for  the 
corner  of  the  eyes,  becomes  canto,  and  then  cantonus.  The 
French  coin  (corner),  is  usually  derived  from  the  Latin  cu- 
neus ;  but  I  have  nc  doubt  it  is  one  corruption  of  canton  :  the 
mediaeval-Latin  cantonus  is  either  an  angle  or  recess,  or  a  four- 


434 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


square  corner-stone.  The  heraldic  canton  is  the  corner-stone 
of  a  building,  and  the  French  cantonnier  is  a  road- mender, 
because  the  essential  thing  in  repairing  a  road  is  to  get  its 
corner  or  edge  firm. 

8.  The  Chevron,  a  band  bent  at  an  angle  (properly  a  right 
angle),  with  its  point  upwards,  represents  the  gable  or  roof  of 
a  house.  Thus  the  four  last-named  ordinaries  represent  the 
four  essentials  of  a  fixed  habitation  :  the  pale,  its  enclosure 
w7ithin  a  given  space  of  ground  ;  the  pile,  its  foundation  ;  the 
canton  its  wall,  and  the  chevron  its  roof. 

9.  The  Orle,  a  narrow  band  following  the  outline  of  the 
shield  midway  between  its  edge  and  centre,  is  a  more  definite 
expression  of  enclosure  or  fortification  by  moat  or  rampart. 
The  relations  of  this  word,  no  less  than  that  of  the  canton, 
are  singular,  and  worth  remembering.  Du  Cange  quotes  un- 
der it  an  order  of  the  municipality  of  Piacenza,  that  always, 
in  the  custom-house  where  the  salt-tax  was  taken,  "  a  great 
orled  disk"  should  be  kept ;  "  dischus  magnus  orlatus,"  fc  e., 
a  large  plate  with  a  rim,  in  which  every  day  fresh  salt  should 
be  placed.  Then  note  that  the  word  disk  is  used  in  the  mid- 
dle ages,  either  for  a  plate,  or  a  table,  (the  "  holy  disk  "  is  the 
patina  of  the  sacrament),  but  most  generally  for  a  table, 
whence  you  get  the  old  German  disch  ;  our  dish,  the  French 
disner,  diner  ;  and  our  dinner.  The  disk  cut  out  into  a  ring 
becomes  a  quoit,  which  is  the  simplest  form  of  orle.  The 
word  '  orle '  itself  comes,  I  believe,  from  ora,  in  old  Latin, 
which  took  a  diminutive,  orula  ;  or  perhaps  the  1  was  put  in 
merely  to  distinguish,  to  the  ear,  a  margined  thing,  '  orlatus/ 
from  a  gilded  thing,  'auratus.'  It  stands  for  the  hem  of  a 
robe,  or  the  fillet  of  a  crown,  as  well  as  for  any  margin  ;  and 
it  is  given  as  an  ordinary  to  such  as  have  afforded  protection 
and  defence,  because  it  defends  what  is  within  it.  Reduced 
to  a  narrow  band,  it  becomes  a  'Treasure.'  If  you  have  a 
sovereign  of  1860  to  1870  in  your  pocket,  and  look  at  the 
right  hand  upper  corner  of  the  Queen's  arms,  you  will  see 
the  Scottish  Lion  within  the  tressure  decorated  with  fleur-de- 
lys,  which  Scotland  bears  in  memory  of  her  treaty  with  Char- 
lemagne. 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


435 


10.  The  Gyron,  a  triangular  space  of  colour  with  its  point 
in  the  centre  of  the  shield,  derives  its  name  from  the  old 
Latin  gyro,  a  fold,  "pars  vestis  qua  laxior  fit,  et  in  superiori 
parte  contracta,  in  largiorem  formam  in  imo  se  explicat." 
The  heraldic  '  gyron/  however,  also  has  a  collateral  reference 
to,  and  root  in,  the  word  '  gremium/  bosom  or  lap  ;  and  it 
signifies  properly  the  chief  fold  or  fall  of  the  dress  either  over 
the  bosom,  or  between  the  knees  ;  and  has  whatever  symbolic 
expression  may  be  attributed  to  that  fold,  as  a  sign  of  kind- 
ness or  protection.  The  influence  of  the  lines  taken  by  softly 
falling  drapery  in  giving  gentleness  to  the  action  of  figures 
was  always  felt  by  the  Gothic  artists  as  one  of  the  chief  ele- 
ments of  design  ;  and  the  two  constantly  repeated  figures  of 
Christ  holding  souls  in  the  '  gremium '  of  his  robe,  and  of  the 
Madonna  casting  hers  over  suppliants,  gave  an  inevitably  rec- 
ognized association  to  them. 

11.  The  Flasque,  a  space  of  colour  terminated  by  a  curved 
line  on  each  flank  of  the  shield,  derives  its  name  from  the  Latin 
flecto,  and  is  the  bearing  of  honour  given  for  successful  em- 
bassy. It  must  be  counted  among  the  ordinaries,  but  is  of 
rare  occurrence  in  what  groups  of  authentic  bearings  I  have 
examined. 

12.  The  Sal  tire,  from  salir,  represents  the  securest  form 
of  machine  for  mounting  walls  ;  it  has  partly  the  same  signif- 
icance as  the  ladder  of  the  Scaligers,  but,  being  properly  an 
ordinary,  and  not  a  bearing,  has  the  wider  general  meaning 
of  successful  ascent,  not  that  of  mere  local  attack.  As  a  bear- 
ing, it  is  the  St.  Andrew's  Cross. 

236.  These  twelve  forms  of  ordinary  then,  or  first  colour 
divisions  of  the  shield,  represent  symbolically  the  establish- 
ment, defence,  and  exaltation  of  the  Knight's  house  by  his 
Christian  courage ;  and  are  in  this  symbolism,  different  from 
all  other  military  bearings.  They  are  throughout  essentially 
founded  on  the  "quartering"  or  division  of  the  field  into  four 
spaces  by  the  sign  of  the  Cross ;  and  the  history  of  the  chiv- 
alry of  Europe  is  absolutely  that  of  the  connection  of  do* 
mestic  honour  with  Christian  faith,  and  of  the  exaltation  of 


436 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


these  two  sentiments  into  the  highest  enthusiasm  by  cultivated 
imagination. 

The  means  of  this  culture  by  the  finer  arts ;  the  errors,  or 
falls,  of  the  enthusiasm  so  excited  ;  its  extinction  by  avarice, 
pride,  and  lust,  in  the  period  of  the  (so  called)  Renaissance, 
and  the  possibility  of  a  true  Renaissance  or  Restoration  of 
courage  and  pure  hope  to  Christian  men  in  their  homes  and 
industries,  must  form  the  general  subject  of  the  study  into 
which  I  have  henceforth  to  lead  you.  In  a  future  course  of 
lectures  it  will  be  my  endeavour  to  show  you,  in  the  elementary 
forms  of  Christian  architecture,  the  evidence  of  such  mental 
development  and  decline  in  Europe  from  the  tenth  to  the 
seventeenth  century;  but  remember  that  my  power,  or  any  one 
else's,  to  show  you  truths  of  this  kind,  must  depend  entirely 
on  the  degree  of  sympathy  you  have  in  yourselves  with  what  is 
decorous  and  generous.  I  use  both  these  words  advisedly, 
and  distinctively,  for  every  high  quality  of  art  consists  either 
in  some  expression  of  what  is  decent, — becoming, — or  disci- 
plined in  character,  or  of  what  is  bright  and  generous  in  the 
forces  of  human  life. 

I  need  not  say  that  I  fear  no  want  of  such  sympathy  in  you  ; 
yet  the  circumstances  in  which  you  are  placed  are  in  many 
respects  adverse  to  it. 

237.  I  find,  on  returning  to  the  University  after  a  period 
of  thirty  years,  the  scope  of  its  teaching  greatly  extended,  the 
zeal  of  its  masters  certainly  undiminished  ;  and,  as  far  as  I 
can  judge,  the  feeling  of  the  younger  members  of  the  Univer- 
sity better,  and  their  readiness  to  comply  with  all  sound  ad- 
vice, greater,  than  in  my  time.  What  scandals  there  have 
been  among  us,  I  think  have  been  in  great  part  accidental, 
and  consequent  chiefly  on  the  intense  need  for  excitement  of 
gome  trivial  kind,  which  is  provoked  by  our  restless  and  com- 
petitive work.  In  temper,  in  general  amenability  to  right 
guidance,  and  in  their  sense  of  the  advantages  open  to  them, 
more  may  now  be  hoped  than  ever  yet  from  the  students  of 
Oxford — one  thing  only  I  find  wanting  to  them  altogether- 
distinctness  of  aim. 

238.  In  their  new  schools  of  science  they  learn  the  power 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


43i 


of  machinery  and  of  physical  elements,  but  not  that  of  the 
Boul  ;  I  am  afraid,  in  our  new  schools  of  liberal  religion  they 
learn  rather  to  doubt  their  own  faiths  than  to  look  with  pa- 
tience or  respect  on  those  of  others  ;  and  in  our  new  schools 
of  policy,  to  efface  the  canons  of  the  past,  without  having 
formed  any  distinct  conception  of  those  which  must  regulate 
the  institutions  of  the  future. 

239.  It  is  therefore  a  matter  of  very  deep  rejoicing  to  rne 
that,  in  bringing  before  your  examination  the  best  forms  of 
English  art,  I  am  necessarily  leading  you  to  take  interest  in 
the  history  of  your  country  at  the  time  when,  so  to  speak,  it 
became  England.  You  see  how,  in  every  college  which  is  now 
extending  or  renewing  its  buildings,  the  adopted  style  is  ap- 
proximately that  of  the  thirteenth  century  ; — it  being  felt,  and 
rightly  felt,  by  a  continually-extending  instinct,  that  only  then 
the  national  mind  had  unimpaired  power  of  ideal  conception. 
Whatever  else  we  may  have  advanced  in,  there  is  no  dis- 
pute that,  in  the  great  arts,  we  have  steadily,  since  that  thir- 
teenth century,  declined :  and  I  have,  therefore,  since  accept- 
ing this  professorship,  partly  again  taken  up  my  abandoned 
idea  of  writing  the  story  of  that  century,  at  least  in  England  ; 
— of  writing  it,  or,  at  all  events,  collecting  it,  with  the  help  of 
my  pupils,  if  they  care  to  help  me.  T>y  myself,  I  can  do  noth- 
ing ;  yet  I  should  not  ask  them  to  help  me  if  I  were  not  cer- 
tain that  at  this  crisis  of  our  national  existence  the  fixing 
the  minds  of  young  and  old  upon  the  customs  and  concep- 
tion of  chivalry  is  the  best  of  all  moral  education.  One  thing 
I  solemnly  desire  to  see  all  children  taught — obedience  ;  and 
one  to  all  persons  entering  into  life — the  power  of  unselfish 
admiration. 

240.  The  incident  which  I  have  related  in  my  fourth  lect- 
ure on  sculpture,  seen  by  me  last  year  on  the  bridge  of  Wal- 
lingford,  is  a  sufficient  example  of  the  courtesies  in  which  we 
are  now  bringing  up  our  peasant  children.  Do  you  think 
that  any  science  or  art  we  can  teach  them  will  make  them 
happy  under  such  conditions  ?  Nay,  in  what  courtesy  or  in 
what  affection  are  we  even  now  carefully  training  ourselves ; 
— above  all,  in  what  form  of  duty  or  reverence  to  those  to 


438 


THE  EAGLE'S  NEST. 


whom  we  owe  all  our  power  of  understanding  even  what  duty 
or  reverence  mean?  I  warned  you  in  my  former  lecture 
against  the  base  curiosity  of  seeking  for  the  origin  of  life  in 
the  dust ;  in  earth  instead  of  heaven  :  how  much  more  must 
I  warn  you  against  forgetting  the  true  origin  of  the  life  that 
is  in  your  own  souls,  of  that  good  which  you  have  heard  with 
your  ears,  and  your  fathers  have  told  you.  You  buy  the  pict- 
ure of  the  Virgin  as  furniture  for  your  rooms ;  but  you  de- 
spise the  religion,  and  you  reject  the  memory,  of  those  who 
have  taught  you  to  love  the  aspect  of  whatsoever  things  and 
creatures  are  good  and  pure  :  and  too  many  of  you,  entering 
into  life,  are  ready  to  think,  to  feel,  to  act,  as  the  men  bid 
you  who  are  incapable  of  worship,  as  they  are  of  creation  ; — 
whose  power  is  only  in  destruction  ;  whose  gladness  only  in 
disdain  ;  whose  glorying  is  in  their  shame.  You  know  well, 
I  should  think,  by  this  time,  that  I  am  not  one  to  seek  to  con- 
ceal from  you  any  truth  of  nature,  or  superstitiously  decorate 
for  you  any  form  of  faith  ;  but  I  trust  deeply — (and  I  will 
strive,  for  my  poor  part,  wholly,  so  to  help  you  in  steadfast- 
ness of  heart) — that  you,  the  children  of  the  Christian  chiv- 
alry which  was  led  in  England  by  the  Lion-Heart,  and  in 
France  by  Koland,  and  in  Spain  by  the  Cid,  may  not  stoop 
to  become  as  these,  whose  thoughts  are  but  to  invent  new 
foulness  with  which  to  blaspheme  the  story  of  Christ,  and  to 
destroy  the  noble  works  and  laws  that  have  been  founded  in 
His  name. 

Will  you  not  rather  go  round  about  this  England,  and  tell 
the  towers  thereof,  and  mark  well  her  bulwarks,  and  consider 
her  palaces,  that  you  may  tell  it  to  the  generation  following  ? 
Will  you  not  rather  honour  with  all  your  strength,  with  all 
your  obedience,  with  all  your  holy  love  and  never-ending  wor- 
ship, the  princely  sires,  and  pure  maids,  and  nursing  mothers, 
who  have  bequeathed  and  blest  your  life  ? — that  so,  for  you 
also,  and  for  your  children,  the  days  of  strength,  and  the  light 
of  memory,  may  be  long  in  this  lovely  land  which  the  Lord 
your  God  has  given  you. 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE 


CONTENTS. 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHASE. 
Volume  I. 

PAGE 

Author's  Preface,  V  5 

Editor's  Preface,       .         .         .         .         .         ,  9 

Chronological  List  of  the  Letters  in  Volume  I,  .  .  14 

LETTERS  ON  ART. 

I.  Art  Criticism  and  Art  Education,    .         .         .  17 

"  Modern  Painters  ;"  a  Reply.    1843,        .           .  T7 

Art  Criticism.    1843,      .....  24 

The  Arts  as  a  Branch  of  Education.     1857,           .  .  39 

Art-Teaching  by  Correspondence,    i860,         .          .  46 

II.  Public  Institutions  and  the  National  Gallery,  .  47 

Danger  to  the  National  Gallery.     1847,            .           .  47 

The  National  Gallery.    1852,         .          .          .  .56 

The  British  Museum.    1866,     .           .           .           .  62 

On  the  Purchase  of  Pictures.    1880,          .          .  65 

311.  Pre-Raphaelitism,          .....  66 

The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren.    185 1  (May  13),      .  .  66 

The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren.    1851  (May  30),           .  70 

"  The  Light  of  the  World,"  Holman  Hunt.    1854,  •  74 

* '  The  Awakening  Conscience,"  Holman  Hunt.    1854,  77 

Pre-Raphaelitism  in  Liverpool.    1858,       .          .  79 

Generalization  and  the  Scotch  Pre-Raphaelites.    1858,  81 


PAGE 

IV.  Turner,         .         ,         ,         .         .         .  .84 

The  Turner  Bequest.    1856,                .          .  ,  84 

[Turner's  Sketch  Book.    1858,       .          .  .87,  note] 

The  Turner  Bequest  and  the  National  Gallery.  1857,  88 

The  Turner  Sketches  and  Drawings.    1858,  .          .  91 

[The  Liber  Studiorum.    1858,             .          .  100,  note] 

The  Turner  Gallery  at  Kensington.    1859,  .          .  101 

Turner's  Drawings.    1876  (July  5),                  ,  .  102 

Turner  s  Drawings.    1876  (July  19),          .  ,          .  107 

Copies  of  Turner's  Drawings.    1876,     .          ,  4  108 

[Copies  of  Turner's  Drawings — Extract.  1857,  .  108,  note] 
[Copy  of  Turner's  Fluellen,      ....  ibidS\ 

"  Turners,"  False  and  True.    1871,          .  .          .  109 

The  Character  of  Turner.    1857,         .          .  .  110 

[Thornbury's  Life  of  Turner.    1861,         .  .          .  111] 

Ve  Pictures  and  Artists,.    .         .         .         .         .  m 

John  Leech's  Outlines.  1872,  ....  in 
Ernest  George's  Etchings.    1873,         .  ,  .  113 

The  Frederick  Walker  Exhibition.    1876,  .  .  116 

VI.  Architecture  and  Restoration,        .         .         .  122 

Gothic  Architecture  and  the  Oxford  Museum.  1858,  .  122 
Gothic  Architecture  and  the  Oxford  Museum.  1859,  .  128 
The  Castle  Rock  (Edinburgh).    1857  (Sept.  14),    .  .  143 

Edinburgh  Castle.     1857  (Sept.  27),      .  .  .  144 

Castles  and  Kennels.    1871  (Dec.  22)*       .  .  .  148 

Verona  v.  Warwick.    1871  (Dec.  24),    .  .  .  149 

Notre  Dame  de  Paris.  1871,  ....  150 
Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence — A  Defence.  1872  (March  15),  151 
Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence — A  Rejoinder.  1872  (March  21),  153 
Modern  Restorations.    1877,     .  .  .  .154 

Ribbesford  Church.    1877,  .  .  t  .155 

Circular  relating  to  St.  Mark's,  Venice.    1879,  .  156 

[Letters  relating  to  St.  Mark's,  Venice.    1879,      .      ibi^  note] 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


PAGE 

I.  Geological,  .         .         .  .         .  .169 

The  Conformation  of  the  Alps.     1864,  •    .           .           .  169 

Concerning  Glaciers.     1864,        .  .           .           .  171 

English  versus  Alpine  Geology.     1864,  .           .           .  177 

Concerning  Hydrostatics.    1864,  .           .           .  181 


James  David  Forbes  :  His  Real  Greatness,     1874,  .  .  182 


II.  Miscellaneous,     .         .         .         .         .  .186 

On  Reflections  in  Water.    1844,      ....  186 

On  the  Reflection  of  Rainbows.     1861,  .  ,  106 

A  Landslip  near  Giagnano.     1841,    ....  197 

On  the  Gentian.    1857,    .....  198 

On  the  Study  of  Natural  History  (undated),  ,  .  199 


CONTENTS. 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHASE. 
Volume  II. 

PAGE 

Chronological  List  of  the  Letters  contained  in  Vol.  II,  204 
LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


The  Italian  Question.    1859          .         .         .         .  209 

Three  Letters  :  June  6,            .          .          .          .  .  209 

June  15,                .          .           .          .  214 

August  1,         .           .          .          .  .219 

The  Foreign  Policy  of  England.  1863,  .  .  .  221 
The  Position  of  Denmark.    1864,        ....  223 

The  Jamaica  Insurrection.    1865,            .         .         .  226 

The  Franco-Prussian  War.    1870,  E  228 

Two  Letters  :  October  6,    .           .           .          .          .  228 

October  7,                   .          .          .  231 

Modern  Warfare.    1876,      .....  234 

LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 

The  Depreciation  of  Gold.    1863,      ....  240 

The  Law  of  Supply  and  Demand.    1864,            .         .  241 

Three  Letters :  October  26,                .          .          .  .  241 

October  29,            ....  243 

November  2,    .          ,          ,          ,  .  246 


l'AGE 

Mr.  Ruskin  and  Professor  Hodgson.    1873,        .          .  246 

Two  Letters :  November  8,                 .           .           ,           .  246 

November  15,          .           .           .           .  247 

Strikes  v.  Arbitration.    1865,            ....  249 

Work  and  Wages.    1865,                .          .          .          .  251 

Five  Letters  :  April  20,            .....  251 

April  22,  ....  253 
April  29,           .          .          .          ;  .255 

May  4,         ....  260 

May  20,             .....  263 

The  Standard  of  Wages.    1S67,     ....  266 

How  the  Rich  spend  their  Money.    1873,    .          .          .  267 

Three  Letters  :  January  23,            ....  267 

January  28,                 .           .           .           .  268 

January  30,            .           .  '          .           .  269 

Commercial  Morality.    1875,    .....  271 

The  Definition  of  Wealth.    1875,           .          ,         .  271 

The  Principles  of  Property.    1877,    ....  272 

On  Co-Operation.    1879-80,            ....  273 

Two  Letters  :  August,  1879,    .....  273 

April  12,  1880,         ....  274 

MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 

I.  The  Management  of  Railways,    .         .         .          .  275 

Is  England  Big  Enough  ?  1868,  .  .  .  275 
The  Ownership  of  Railways.  1868,  .  .  .277 
Railway  Economy.    1868,         .           .           .  .279 

Our  Railway  System.    1865,          .          .          .          .  283 

Railway  Safety.    1870,             .          .          .          .  285 


PAGE 

II.  Servants  and  Houses, 

Domestic  Servants — Mastership.  1&65, 
Domestic  Servants — Experience.  1865, 
Domestic  Servants — Sonship  and  Slavery, 
Modem  Houses.  1865, 

III.  Roman  Inundations, 

A  King's  First  Duty.  1871, 
A  Nation's  Defences.  1871, 
The  Waters,  of  Comfort.  1871, 
The  Streams  of  Italy.  1871, 
The  Streets  of  London.  1871, 

IV.  Education  for  Rich  and  Poor, 

True  Education.  1868, 
The  Value  of  Lectures.    1874,  . 
The  Cradle  of  Art  !  1876, 
St.  George's  Museum.  1875, 
The  Morality  of  Field  Sports.  1870, 
Drunkenness  and  Crime.  1871, 
Madness  and  Crime.  1872, 

Employment  for  the  Destitute  Poor  and  Criminal  Classes. 


1868,           .......  317 

Notes  on  the  General  Principles  of  Employment  for  the 

Destitute  and  Criminal  Classes  (a  Pamphlet).    1868,    .  318 

Blindness  and  Sight.    1879,       ....  325 

The  Eagle's  Nest.    1879,    .....  326 

Politics  in  Youth.     1879,          ....  326 

"  Act,  Act  in  the  Living  Present."    1873,             .          .  327 

"  Laborare  est  Orare."    1874,    ....  328 

A  Pagan  Message.    1878,    .....  329 

The  Foundations  of  Chivalry.    1877-78,          .          .  329 
Five  Letters  :  February  8,  1877,         .          .  .329 

February  10,  1877,  .          .           .  330 

February  II,  1877,       .           .           .  332 

February  12,  1877,  .  .  .  333 
July  3;  1.878,      .           .           .  .333 


286 
.  287 

1865,  .  289 

.  296 

300 

.  300 
301 

•  303 
304 

.  307 

309 

.  309 
310 

•  312 
312 

•  313 
315 

.  116 


V.  Women  :  Their  Work  and  Their  Dress,       .         .  '335 

Woman's  Work.    1873,        .....  335 

Female  Franchise.    1870,           .          .          .          [  335 

Proverbs  on  Right  Dress.     1862,      ....  336 

Sad-colored  Costumes.    1870,      ....  338 

Oak  Silkworms.    1862,         .....  340 

VI.  Literary  Criticism,       .....  341 

The  Publication  of  Books.    1875,     .  .  .  .341 

A  Mistaken  Review.    1875,        ....  343 

The  Position  of  Critics.    1875,         .          .          .          .  345 

Coventry  Patmore's  "  Faithful  for  Ever."    i860,           .  346 

"  The  Queen  of  the  Air."    1871,      ....  349 

The  Animals  of  Scripture  :  a  Review.     1855,     .           .  350 

'*  Limner "  and  Illumination.    1854,            .           .           .  352 

Notes  on  a  Word  in  Shakespeare.    1878,           .          .  353 

Two  Letters  :  September,         ....  353 

September  29,           .          .          .  354 

11  The  Merchant  of  Venice."    1880,            .          .          .  356 

Recitations.    1880,          .  357 

APPENDIX. 

Letter  to  W.  C.  Bennett,  LL.D.    1852,        .          .          .  359 

Letter  to  Thomas  Guthrie,  D.D.    1853,            .         e  360 

The  Sale  of  Mr.  Windus'  Pictures.    1859,    .          .          .  361 

At  the  Play.    1867,  ......  361 

An  Object  of  Charity.    1868,            ....  362 

Excuses  from  Correspondence.    1868,       .         .  362 

Letter  to  the  Author  of  a  Review.    1872,           .         .  363 

An  Oxford  Protest.    1874,            ....  364 

Mr.  Ruskin  and  Mr.  Lowe.    1877,      ,         ,         ,  .365 


PAGK 

The  Bibliography  of  Ruskin.    1878,        ,         .  .365 

Two  Letters  :  September  30,    ....  365 
October  23,  ....  366 

The  Society  of  the  Rose.    1879,        ....  366 


Letter  to  W.  H.  Harrison.    1865,           .          .          .  367 

Dramatic  Reform.  1880.  (Two  Letters),  .  .  .  368 
The  Lord  Rectorship  of  Glasgow  University.  1880.  (Five 

Letters),       .  .  .  .  .  .  .37° 

Epilogue,    ........  373 

Chronological  List  of  the  Letters  contained  in  Both 

Volumes,    .                                      ...  376 

Index,                 ,         ,         «,         «         a         0         ,  3S3 


ul  never  wrote  a  letter  In  my  life  which  all  the  world  are  not  welcome 
*eftd  if  they  will."— Fors  Clavigera,  Letter  lix.,  1875. 


AUTHORS  PEEFACE. 


My  good  Editor  insists  that  this  book  must  have  an 
Author's  Preface  ;  and  insists  further  that  it  shall  not  contain 
compliments  to  him  on  the  editorship.  I  must  leave,  there- 
fore, any  readers  who  care  for  the  book,  and  comprehend  the 
trouble  that  has  been  spent  on  it,  to  pay  him  their  own  com- 
pliments, as  the  successive  service  of  his  notes  may  call  for 
them  :  but  my  obedience  to  his  order,  not  in  itself  easy  to 
me,  doubles  the  difficulty  I  have  in  doing  what  nevertheless, 
I  am  resolved  to  do — pay,  that  is  to  say,  several  extremely 
fine  compliments  to  myself,  upon  the  quality  of  the  text. 

For  of  course  I  have  read  none  of  these  letters  since  they 
were  first  printed  :  of  half  of  them  I  had  forgotten  the  con- 
tents, of  some,  the  existence  ;  all  come  fresh  to  me  ;  and  here 
in  Rouen,  where  I  thought  nothing  could  possibly  have  kept 
me  from  drawing  all  I  could  of  the  remnants  of  the  old  town, 
I  find  myself,  instead,  lying  in  bed  in  the  morning,  reading 
these  remnants  of  my  old  self — and  that  with  much  content- 
ment and  thankful  applause. 

For  here  are  a  series  of  letters  ranging  over  a  period  of, 
broadly,  forty  years  of  my  life  ;  most  of  them  written  hastily, 
and  all  in  hours  snatched  from  heavier  work  :  and  in  the  en- 
tire mass  of  them  there  is  not  a  word  I  wish  to  change,  not 
a  statement  I  have  to  retract,  and,  I  believe,  few  pieces  of  ad- 
vice, which  the  reader  will  not  find  it  for  his  good  to  act  upon. 


6 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


With  which  brief  preface  I  am,  for  my  own  part,  content ; 
but  as  it  is  one  of  an  unusual  tenor,  and  may  be  thought  by 
some  of  my  friends,  and  all  my  foes,  more  candid  than  grace- 
ful, I  permit  myself  the  apologetic  egotism  of  enforcing  one 
or  two  of  the  points  in  which  I  find  these  letters  so  well 
worth — their  author's — reading. 

In  the  building  of  a  large  book,  there  are  always  places 
where  an  indulged  diffuseness  weakens  the  fancy,  and  pro- 
longed strain  subdues  the  energy  :  when  we  have  time  to  say 
all  we  wish,  we  usually  wish  to  say  more  than  enough  ;  and 
there  are  few  subjects  we  can  have  the  pride  of  exhausting, 
without  wearying  the  listener.  But  all  these  letters  were 
written  with  fully  provoked  zeal,  under  strict  allowance  of 
space  and  time  :  they  contain  the  choicest  and  most  needful 
things  I  could  within  narrow  limits  say,  out  of  many  con- 
tending to  be  said ;  expressed  with  deliberate  precision  ;  and 
recommended  by  the  best  art  I  had  in  illustration  or  emphasis. 
At  the  time  of  my  life  in  which  most  of  them  were  composed, 
I  was  fonder  of  metaphor,  and  more  fertile  in  simile,  than  I 
am  now  ;  and  I  employed  both  with  franker  trust  in  the 
reader's  intelligence.  Carefully  chosen,  they  are  always  a 
powerful  means  of  concentration  ;  and  I  could  then  dismiss 
in  six  words,  "  thistledown  without  seeds,  and  bubbles  without 
color,"  forms  of  art  on  which  I  should  now  perhaps  spend 
half  a  page  of  analytic  vituperation  ;  and  represent,  with  a 
pleasant  accuracy  which  my  best  methods  of  outline  and  ex- 
position could  now  no  more  achieve,  the  entire  system  of  mod- 
ern plutocratic  policy,  under  the  luckily  remembered  image  of 
the  Arabian  bridegroom,  bewitched  with  his  heels  uppermost. 

It  is  to  be  remembered  also  that  many  of  the  subjects  han- 
dled can  be  more  conveniently  treated  controversially  than 
directly  ;  the  answer  to  a  single  question  may  be  made  clearer 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 


7 


than  a  statement  which  endeavors  to  anticipate  many  ;  and  the 
crystalline  vigor  of  a  truth  is  often  best  seen  in  the  course  of 
its  serene  collision  with  a  trembling  and  dissolving  fallacy. 
But  there  is  a  deeper  reason  than  any  such  accidental  ones  for 
the  quality  of  this  book.  Since  the  letters  cost  me,  as  afore- 
said, much  trouble  ;  since  they  interrupted  me  in  pleasant 
work  which  was  usually  liable  to  take  harm  by  interruption  ; 
and  since  they  were  likely  almost,  in  the  degree  of  their  force, 
to  be  refused  by  the  editors  of  the  adverse  journals,  I  never 
was  tempted  into  writing  a  word  for  the  public  press,  unless 
concerning  matters  which  I  had  much  at  heart.  And  the 
issue  is,  therefore,  that  the  two  following  volumes  contain  very 
nearly  the  indices  of  everything  I  have  deeply  cared  for  dur- 
ing the  last  forty  years  ;  while  not  a  few  of  their  political 
notices  relate  to  events  of  more  profound  historical  importance 
than  any  others  that  have  occurred  during  the  period  they 
cover  ;  and  it  has  not  been  an  uneventful  one. 

Nor  have  the  events  been  without  gravity  ;  the  greater, 
because  they  have  all  been  inconclusive.  Their  true  conclu- 
sions are  perhaps  nearer  than  any  of  us  apprehend  ;  and  the 
part  I  may  be  forced  to  take  in  them,  though  I  am  old, — per- 
haps I  should  rather  say,  because  I  am  old, — will,  as  far  as  I 
can  either  judge  or  resolve,  be  not  merely  literary. 

Whether  I  am  spared  to  put  into  act  anything  here  designed 
for  my  country's  help,  or  am  shielded  by  death  from  the  sight 
of  her  remediless  sorrow,  I  have  already  done  for  her  as  much 
service  as  she  has  will  to  receive,  by  laying  before  her  facts 
vital  to  her  existence,  and  unalterable  by  her  power,  in  words 
of  which  not  one  has  been  warped  by  interest  nor  weakened 
by  fear ;  and  which  are  as  pure  from  selfish  passion  as  if  they 
were  spoken  already  out  of  another  world. 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Rouen,  St.  Firmin's  Day,  1880. 


EDITOE'S  PEEFAOE. 


Some  words  are  needed  by  -way  of  a  general  note  to  the 
present  volumes  in  explanation  of  the  principles  upon  which 
they  have  been  edited.  It  is,  however,  first  due  to  the  com- 
piler of  the  ^Bibliography  of  Mr.  Buskin's  writings,1  to  state 
in  what  measure  this  book  has  been  prompted  and  assisted  by 
his  previous  labors.  Already  acquainted  with  some  few  of 
the  letters  which  Mr.  Euskin  had  addressed  at  various  times 
to  the  different  organs  of  the  daily  press,  or  which  had  in- 
directly found  their  way  there,  it  was  not  until  I  came  across 
the  Bibliography  that  I  was  encouraged  to  complete  and  ar- 
range a  collection  of  these  scattered  portions  of  his  thought. 
When  I  had  done  this,  I  ventured  to  submit  the  whole  num- 
ber of  the  letters  to  their  author,  and  to  ask  him  if,  after  tak- 
ing two  or  three  of  them  as  examples  of  the  rest,  he  would 
not  consider  the  advisability  of  himself  republishing,  if  not 
all,  at  least  a  selected  few.  In  reply,  he  was  good  enough  to 
put  me  in  communication  with  his  publisher,  and  to  request 
me  to  edit  any  or  all  of  the  letters  without  further  reference 
to  him. 

I  have,  therefore,  to  point  out  that  except  for  that  request, 
or  rather  sanction  ;  for  the  preface  which  he  has  promised  to 


1  The  Bibliography  of  Ruskin :  a  bibliographical  list,  arranged  La 
chronological  order,  of  the  published  writings  of  John  Ruskin,  M,* 
(From  1834  to  1879.)   By  Richard  Heme  Shepherd. 


10 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE, 


add  after  my  work  upon  the  volumes  is  finished  ;  and  for  the 
title  which  it  bears,  Mr.  Ruskin  is  in  no  way  responsible  for 
this  edition  of  his  letters.  I  knew,  indeed,  from  the  words  of 
"  Fors  Clavigera  "  which  are  printed  as  a  motto  to  the  book, 
that  I  ran  little  risk  of  his  disapproval  in  determining  to  print, 
not  a  selection,  but  the  whole  number  of  letters  in  question  ; 
and  I  felt  certain  that  the  completeness  of  the  collection  would 
be  considered  a  first  essential  by  most  of  its  readers,  who  are 
thus  assured  that  the  present  volumes  contain,  with  but  two 
exceptions,  every  letter  mentioned  in  the  last  edition  of  the 
bibliography,  and  some  few  more  beside,  which  have  been 
either  printed  or  discovered  since  its  publication. 

The  two  exceptions  are,  first,  the  series  of  letters  on  the 
Lord's  Prayer  which  appeared  in  the  pages  of  the  Contem- 
porary Review  last  December ;  and,  secondly,  some  half-dozen 
upon  "A  Museum  or  Picture  Gallery,"  printed  in  the  Art 
Journal  of  last  June  and  August.  It  seemed  that  both  these 
sets  of  letters  were  really  more  akin  to  review  articles  cast  in 
an  epistolary  form,  and  would  thus  find  fitter  place  in  a  col- 
lection of  such  papers  than  in  the  present  volumes  ;  and  for 
the  omission  of  the  second  set  there  was  a  still  further  reason 
in  the  fact  that  the  series  is  not  yet  completed.1  On  the 
other  hand,  the  recent  circular  on  the  proposed  interference 


1  The  letter  out  of  which  it  took  its  rise,  however,  will  be  found  on 
the  82d  page  of  the  first  volume  ;  and  with  regard  to  it,  and  especially 
to  the  mention  of  Mr.  Frith's  picture  in  it,  reference  should  be  made  to 
part  of  a  further  letter  in  the  Art  Journal  of  this  month. 

"  I  owe  some  apology,  by  the  way,  to  Mr.  Frith,  for  the  way  I  spoke 
of  his  picture  in  my  letter  to  the  Leicester  committee,  not  intended  for 
publication,  though  I  never  write  what  I  would  not  allow  to  be  pub- 
lished, and  was  glad  that  they  asked  leave  to  print  it.  ?  (Art  Journal, 
August,  1880,  where  this  sentence  is  further  explained.) 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


11 


with  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  is  included  in  the  first,  and  one  or 
two  other  extraneous  matters  in  the  second  volume,  for  rea- 
sons which  their  connection  with  the  letters  amongst  which 
they  are  placed  will  make  sufficiently  clear. 

The  letters  are  reprinted  word  for  word,  and  almost  stop 
for  stop,  from  the  newspapers  and  other  pages  in  which  they 
first  appeared.  To  ensure  this  accuracy  was  not  an  easy  mat- 
ter, and  to  it  there  are  a  few  intentional  exceptions.  A  few 
misprints  have  been  corrected,  such  as  that  of  "  Fat  Bard  "  for 
"  Fort  Bard  "  (vol.  i.  p.  147)  ;  and  now  and  then  the  punctua- 
tion has  been  changed,  as  on  the  256th  page  of  the  same  vol- 
ume, where  a  comma,  placed  in  the  original  print  of  the  letter 
between  the  words  "visibly  "  and  "owing,"  quite  confused  the 
sentence.  To  these  slight  alterations  may  be  added  others 
still  less  important,  such  as  the  commencement  of  a  fresh  para- 
graph, or  the  closing  up  of  an  existing  one,  to  suit  the  com- 
position of  the  type,  which  the  number  of  notes  rendered 
unusually  tiresome.  The  title  of  a  letter,  too,  is  not  always 
that  provided  it  by  the  newspaper  ;  in  some  cases  it  seemed 
well  to  rechristen,  in  others  it  was  necessary  to  christen  a  let- 
ter, though  the  former  has  never  been  done  where  it  was  at 
all  possible  that  the  existing  title  (for  which  reference  can 
always  be  made  to  the  bibliography)  was  one  given  to  it  by 
Mr.  Ruskin  himself. 

The  classification  of  the  letters  is  well  enough  shown  by  the 
tables  of  contents.  The  advantages  of  a  topical  over  a  chrono- 
logical arrangement  appeared  beyond  all  doubt ;  whilst  the 
addition  to  each  volume  of  a  chronological  list  of  the  letters 
contained  in  it,  and  the  further  addition  to  the  second  volume 
of  a  similar  list  of  all  the  letters  contained  in  the  book,  and 
of  a  full  index,  will,  it  is  hoped,  increase  the  usefulness  of  the 
work. 


EDITOR'S  PREFACE. 


The  beautiful  engraving  which  forms  the  frontispiece  of 
the  first  volume  originally  formed  that  of  "  The  Oxford 
Museum."  The  plate  was  but  little  used  in  the  apparently 
small  edition  of  that  book,  and  was  thus  found  to  be  in  excel- 
lent state  for  further  use  here.  The  woodcut  of  the  chestnut 
spandril  (vol.  i.  p.  141)  is  copied  from  one  which  may  also  be 
found  in  "The  Oxford  Museum."  The  facsimile  of  part  of 
one  of  the  letters  is  not  quite  satisfactory,  the  lines  being 
somewhat  thicker  than  they  should  be,  but  it  answers  its  pres- 
ent purpose. 

Lastly,  the  chief  difficulty  of  editing  these  letters  has  been 
in  regard  to  the  notes,  and  has  lain  not  so  much  in  obtaining 
the  necessary  information  as  in  deciding  what  use  to  make  of 
it  when  obtained.  The  first  point  was,  of  course,  to  put  the 
reader  of  the  present  volumes  in  possession  of  every  fact  which 
would  have  been  common  knowledge  at  the  time  when  such 
and  such  a  letter  was  written  ;  but  beyond  this  there  were 
various  allusions,  which  might  be  thought  to  need  explanation  ; 
quotations,  the  exact  reference  to  which  might  be  convenient ; 
and  so  forth.  Some  notes,  therefore,  of  this  character  have 
been  also  added  ;  whilst  some  few  which  were  omitted,  either 
intentionally  or  by  accident,  from  the  body  of  the  work,  may 
be  found  on  reference  to  the  index.1 

The  effort  to  make  the  book  complete  has  induced  the  no- 
tice of  slight  variations  of  text  in  one  or  two  cases,  especially 
in  the  reprint  of  the  St.  Mark's  Circular.  The  space  occupied 
by  such  notes  is  small,  the  interest  which  a  few  students  take 


1  Some  of  the  notes,  it  will  be  remarked,  are  in  larger  type  than  the 
rest ;  these  are  Mr.  Ruskin's  original  notes  to  the  letters  as  first  published, 
and  are  in  fact  part  of  them  ;  and  they  are  so  printed  to  distinguish  them 
from  the  other  notes,  for  which  I  am  responsible. 


EDITOR* 8  PREFACE. 


13 


in  the  facts  they  notice  really  great,  and  the  appearance  of 
pedantry  to  some  readers  is  thus  risked  in  order  to  meet  the 
special  wish  of  others.  The  same  effort  will  account  for  the 
reappearance  of  one  or  two  really  unimportant  letters  in  the 
Appendix  to  the  second  volume,  which  contains  also  some  few 
letters  the  nature  of  which  is  rather  personal  than  public. 

I  have  asked  Mr.  Euskin  to  state  in  his  preface  to  the  book 
the  value  he  may  set  upon  it  in  relation  to  his  other  and  more 
connected  work  ;  and  for  the  rest,  I  have  only  to  add  that  the 
editing  of  it  has  been  the  pleasant  labor  of  my  leisure  for  more 
than  two  years  past,  and  to  express  my  hope  that  these  scat- 
tered arrows,  some  from  the  bow  of  "An  Oxford  Graduate," 
some  from  that  of  an  Oxford  Professor,  may  not  have  been 
vainly  winged  anew  by 

An  Oxford  Pupil. 

October,  1880. 


14 

Note.- 


CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  THE  LETTERS 

. — In  the  second  and  third  columns  the  bracketed  words  and  figures  are  more  or 


Title  of  Letter. 


A  Landslip  near  Giagnano   

Modern  Painters  :  a  Reply  

Art  Criticism   

On  Reflections  in  Water   

Danger  to  the  National  Gallery  

The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren,  I  

The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren,  II  

The  National  Gallery  

"  The  Light  of  the  World  "  

"  The  Awakening  Conscience  "  

The  Turner  Bequest  

On  the  Gentian  

The  Turner  Bequest  &  National  Gallery  

The  Castle  Rock  (Edinburgh)  

The  Arts  as  a  Branch  of  Education  

Edinburgh  Castle  

The  Character  of  Turner  

Pre-Raphaelitism  in  Liverpool  

Generalization  &  Scotch  Pre-Raphaelites  .... 
Gothic  Architecture  &  Oxford  Museum,  I. . . 

The  Turner  Sketches  and  Drawings  

Turner's  Sketch  Book  (extract)  

The  Liber  Studiorum  (extract)  

Gothic  Architecture  &  Oxford  Museum,  II. . 

The  Turner  Gallery  at  Kensington  

Mr.  Thornbury's  u  Life  of  Turner  "  (extract) 

Art  Teaching  by  Correspondence  

On  the  Reflection  of  Rainbows  

The  Conformation  of  the  Alps  

Concerning  Glaciers  

English  versus  Alpine  Geology  

Concerning  Hydrostatics  

The  British  Museum  

Copies  of  Turner's  Drawings  (extract)  

Notre  Dame  de  Paris  

" Turners,"  False  and  True   

Castles  and  Kennels  

Verona  v.  Warwick  

Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence  :  a  Defence  

Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence  :  a  Rejoinder  

John  Leech's  Outlines  

Ernest  George's  Etchings  

James  David  Forbes  :  his  Real  Greatness. . . . 

The  Frederick  Walker  Exhibition  

Copies  of  Turner's  Drawings  

Turner's  Drawings,  I  

Turner's  Drawings,  II  

Modern  Restoration  

Ribbesford  Church  

St.  Mark's,  Venice — Circular  relating  to. . 

St.  Mark's,  Venice — Letters  

On  the  Purchase  of  Pictures  

Copy  of  Turner's  "Fluelen"  

The  Study  of  Natural  History   


Where  Written 


Naples   

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Heme  Hill,  Dulwich. . . 

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  , 

Dunbar  

Penrith  

Penrith  

[   

[   

[   

[   

[   

[   

[   

[   

Denmark  Hill  

Lucerne  

Denmark  Hill  

[  ]  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Norwich  

Denmark  Hill  

[   

[Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill,  S.  E. .  . . 

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

C   

Peterborough  

Brantwood  

Brantwood,  Coniston, 

Lancashire  

Venice  

Brantwood,  Coniston, 

Lancashire  

[Brantwood   

[Brantwood  

[Brantwood  

London  

r  ]  


CONTAINED  IN  THE  FIRST  VOLUME.  15 

less  certainly  conjectured ;  whilst  those  unbracketed  give  the  actual  dating  of  the  letter. 


When  Written. 


February  7,  1841  

About  Sept.  17,  1843  

December,  1843]  

January,  1844]  

January  6  [1847]  

May  9  [1851]  

May  ::0  [1851]  

December  27  [1852]  

May  4  [1854]   

May  24  [1854]  

October  27  [1856]  

February  10  [1857]  

July  8,  1857]  

14th  September,  1857  .... 

September  25,  1857  

27th  September  [1857] 

1857]  

January,  185S]  

March,  1858]  

June,  1858]  

November,  1858]   

]  1858  

]  1858  

January  20,  1859  

October  20  [1859]  

December  2,  1861  

November,  1860  

7th  May,  1861  

10th  November,  1864  

November  21  [1864]  

29th  November  [1864] 

5th  December  [1 864]  

Jan.  26  [1866]  

]  1867  

January  18,  1871]  

January  23  [1871]  

December  20  [1871]  

24th  (for  25th)  Dec.  [1871] 

March  15  [1872]  

March  21  [1872]  

1872]  

December,  1873]  

1874]  

January,  1876]   

April  23  [1876]  

July  3  [1876]  

July  16  [1876]  

15th  April,  1877  

July  24,  1877  

Winter  1879]  

Winter  1879]  

January,  1880]   

20th  March,  1880.  

Undated  


Where  and  when  first  Published. 


Proceedings  of  the  Ashmolean  Society  

The  Weekly  Chronicle,  Sept.  23,  1843  

The  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine,  1844.. 
The  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine,  1844. . 

The  Times,  January  7,  1847  

The  Times,  May  13,  1851  

The  Times,  May  30,  1851  „ 

The  Times,  December  29,  1852   

The  Times,  May  15,  1854  

The  Times,  May  25, 1854  

The  Times,  October  28,  1856  

The  Athenaeum,  February  14, 1 857  

The  Times,  July  9,  1857  

The  Witness  (Edinburgh),  Sept.  16,  1857  . . 
"  New  Oxford  Examinations,  etc.,"  1858  . . 
The  Witness  (Edinburgh),  Sept.  30, 1857. . . 
Thornbury's  Life  of  Turner.  Preface,  1861 
The  Liverpool  Albion,  January  11,  1858  . . . 
The  Witness  (Edinburgh),  March  27,  1858 

"The  Oxford  Museum,"  1859  

The  Literary  Gazette,  Nov.  13,  1858  

List  of  Turner's  Drawings,  Boston,  1874. . . 
List  of  Turner's  Drawings,  Boston,  1874. . . 

64  The  Oxford  Museum,"  1859  

The  Times,  October  21, 1859  

Thornbury's  Life  of  Turner.    Ed.  2,  Pref. 

Nature  and  Art,  December  1, 1866  .•  

The  London  Review,  May  16,  1861   

The  Reader,  November  12,  1864  

The  Reader,  November  26,  1864  

The  Reader,  December  3, 1864   

The  Reader,  December  10,  1864  

The  Times,  January  27,  1866  

List  of  Turner's  Drawings,  Boston,  1874  . . 
The  Daily  Telegraph,  January  19,  1871 

The  Times,  January  24,  1871  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  December  22,  1871.. 
The  Daily  Telegraph,  December  25,  1871 . . 
The  PailMall  Gazette,  March  16,  1872  .... 
The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  March  21, 1872  .... 
The  Catalogue  to  the  Exhibition,  1 872  .... 

The  Architect,  December  27,  1873   

"  Rendu's  Glaciers  of  Savoy,"  1874   

The  Times,  January  20,  1876  

The  Times,  April  25,  1876   

The  Daily  Telegraph,  July  5,  1876   

The  Daily  Telegraph,  July  19,  1876  

The  Liverpool  Daily  Post,  June  9, 1877  .... 
The  Kidderminster  Times,  July  28, 1877  . . 

See  the  Circular   

Birmingham  Daily  Mail,  Nov.  27, 1879   

Leicester  Chronicle,  January  31, 1880   

Lithograph  copy  issued  by  Mr.  Ward,  1880 
Letter  to  Adam  White  [unknown]  


Page. 

197 

1.7 

24 
186 

47 

66 

70 

56 

74 

77 

84 
198 

87 
143 

39 
144 
110 

79 

81 
122 

91 

88n. 
ilOOn. 
|128 
101 
111 

46 
196 
169 
171 
177 
181 

62 

108n. 

150 

109 

148 

149 

151 

153 

111 

113 

182 

116 

108 

102 

107 
154 
155 

156 
166 
65 

108n. 
199 


VOLUME  ONE 

LETTERS  ON  ART  AND  SCIENCE 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


LETTEES  ON  AET. 
L— ART  CRITICISM  AND  ART  EDUCATION. 

[From  "The  Weekly  Chronicle,"  September  23,  1843.] 

"MODERN  PAINTERS "  ;  A  REPLY. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  Tlie  Weekly  Chronicle." 

Sir  :  I  was  much  gratified  by  reading  in  your  columns  of 
the  15th  1  instant  a  piece  of  close,  candid,  and  artistical  criti- 
cism on  my  work  entitled  "Modern  Painters."  Serious  and 
well-based  criticism  is  at  the  present  day  so  rare,  and  our  peri- 
odicals are  filled  so  universally  with  the  splenetic  jargon  or 
meaningless  praise  of  ignorance,  that  it  is  no  small  pleasure 
to  an  author  to  meet  either  with  praise  which  he  can  view  with 
patience,  or  censure  which  he  can  regard  with  respect.  I  sel- 
dom, therefore,  read,  and  have  never  for  an  instant  thought 
of  noticing,  the  ordinary  animadversions  of  the  press  ;  but  the 
critique  on  " Modern  Painters"  in  your  pages  is  evidently  the 
work  of  a  man  both  of  knowledge  and  feeling  ;  and  is  at  once 
so  candid  and  so  keen,  so  honest  and  so  subtle,  that  I  am 
desirous  of  offering  a  few  remarks  on  the  points  on  which  it 
principally  touches — they  are  of  importance  to  art ;  and  I  feel 
convinced  that  the  writer  is  desirous  only  of  elucidating  truth, 
not  of  upholding  a  favorite  error.   With  respect  first  to  Gas- 


1  It  should  be  the  16th,  the  criticism  having  appeared  in  the  preced* 
ing  weekly  issue. 


18 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OR  ACE. 


par's  painting  of  the  "Sacrifice  of  Isaac."  It  is  not  on  the 
faith  of  any  single  shadow  that  I  have  pronounced  the  time  in- 
tended to  be  near  noon  1 — though  the  shadow  of  the  two  figures 
being  very  short,  and  cast  from  the  spectator,  is  in  itself  con- 
clusive. The  whole  system  of  chiaroscuro  of  the  picture  is 
lateral ;  and  the  light  is  expressly  shown  not  to  come  from 
the  distance  by  its  breaking  brightly  on  the  bit  of  rock  and 
waterfall  on  the  left,  from  which  the  high  copse  wood  alto- 
gether intercepts  the  rays  proceeding  from  the  horizon.  There 
are  multitudes  of  pictures  by  Gaspar  with  this  same  effect- 
leaving  no  doubt  whatever  on  my  mind  that  they  are  all  man- 
ufactured by  the  same  approved  recipe,  probably  given  him 
by  Nicholas,  but  worked  out  by  Gaspar  with  the  clumsiness 
and  vulgarity  which  are  invariably  attendant  on  the  efforts  of 
an  inferior  mind  to  realize  the  ideas  of  a  greater.  The  Italian 
masters  universally  make  the  horizon  the  chief  light  of  their 
picture,  whether  the  effect  intended  be  of  noon  or  evening. 
Gaspar,  to  save  himself  the  trouble  of  graduation,  washes  his 
sky  half  blue  and  half  yellow,  and  separates  the  two  colors  by 
a  line  of  cloud.  In  order  to  get  his  light  conspicuous  and  clear, 
he  washes  the  rest  of  his  sky  of  a  dark  deep  blue,  without  any 
thoughts  about  time  of  day  or  elevation  of  sun,  or  any  such 
minutiae  ;  finally,  having  frequently  found  the  convenience  of 
a  black  foreground,  with  a  bit  of  light  coming  in  round  the 
corner,  and  probably  having  no  conception  of  the  possibility 
of  painting  a  foreground  on  any  other  principle,  he  naturally 
falls  into  the  usual  method — blackens  it  all  over,  touches  in  a 
few  rays  of  lateral  light,  and  turns  out  a  very  respectable 
article ;  for  in  such  language  only  should  we  express  the  com- 
pletion of  a  picture  painted  throughout  on  conventional  prin- 
ciples, without  one  reference  to  nature,  and  without  one  idea 

1  See  Modern  Painters,  vol.  i.  p.  229  (Pt.  II.  §  2,  cap.  2,  §  5).  '«  Again, 
take  any  important  group  of  trees,  I  do  not  care  whose,— Claude's,  Sal- 
vator's,  or  Poussin's,— with  lateral  light  (that  in  the  Marriage  of  Isaac 
and  Rebecca,  or  Gaspar' s  Sacrifice  of  Isaac,  for  instance);  can  it  be  sup- 
posed that  those  murky  browns  and  melancholy  greens  are  representa- 
tive of  the  tints  of  leaves  under  full  noonday  sun  ?  "  The  picture  in 
question  is,  it  need  hardly  be  said,  in  the  National  Gallery  (No.  31). 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


19 


of  the  painter's  own.  With  respect  to  Salvator's  "Mercury 
and  the  Woodman," 1  your  critic  has  not  allowed  for  the  effect 
of  time  on  its  blues.  They  are  now,  indeed,  sobered  and 
brought  down,  as  is  every  other  color  in  the  picture,  until  it  is 
scarcely  possible  to  distinguish  any  of  the  details  in  its  darker 
parts ;  but  they  have  been  pure  and  clean,  and  the  mountain 
is  absolutely  the  same  color  as  the  open  part  of  the  sky.  When 
I  say  it  is  "in  full  light,"  I  do  not  mean  that  it  is  the  highest 
light  of  the  picture  (for  no  distant  mountain  can  be  so,  when 
compared  with  bright  earth  or  white  clouds),  but  that  no  acci- 
dental shadow  is  cast  upon  it ;  that  it  is  under  open  sky,  and 
so  illumined  that  there  must  necessarily  be  a  difference  in  hue 
between  its  light  and  dark  sides,  at  which  Salvator  has  not 
even  hinted. 

Again,  with  respect  to  the  question  of  focal  distances,2 
your  critic,  in  common  with  many  very  clever  people  to  whom 
I  have  spoken  on  the  subject,  has  confused  the  obscurity  of 
objects  which  are  laterally  out  of  the  focal  range,  with  that  of 
objects  which  are  directly  out  of  the  focal  distance.  If  all  ob- 
jects in  a  landscape  were  in  the  same  plane,  they  should  be 
represented  on  the  plane  of  the  canvas  with  equal  distinctness, 

1  See  Modern  Painters,  vol.  i.,  pp.  227-28  (Pt.  II.  §  ii.,  cap.  2,  §  4).  The 
critic  of  the  Chronicle  had  written  that  the  rocky  mountains  in  this  pict- 
ure 4 'are  not  sky-blue,  neither  are  they  near  enough  for  detail  of  crag 
to  be  seen,  neither  are  they  in  full  light,  but  are  quite  as  indistinct  as 
they  would  be  in  nature,  and  just  the  color."  The  picture  is  No.  84  in 
the  National  Gallery. 

2  See  Modern  Painters,  vol.  i.  pp.  260-61  (Pt.  II.  §  ii.  cap.  4,  §  6). 
"  Turner  introduced  a  new  era  in  landscape  art,  by  showing  that  the 
foreground  might  be  sunk  for  the  distance,  and  that  it  was  possible  to 
express  immediate  proximity  to  the  spectator,  without  giving  anything 
like  completeness  to  the  forms  of  the  near  objects.  This,  observe,  is 
not  done  by  slurred  or  soft  lines  (always  the  sign  of  vice  in  art),  but  by 
a  decisive  imperfection,  a  firm  but  partial  assertion  of  form,  which  the 
eye  feels  indeed  to  be  close  home  to  it,  and  yet  cannot  rest  upon,  nor 
cling  to,  nor  entirely  understand,  and  from  which  it  is  driven  away  of 
necessity  to  those  parts  of  distance  on  which  it  is  intended  to  repose.1' 
To  this  the  critic  of  the  Chronicle  had  objected,  attempting  to  show  that 
it  would  result  in  Nature  being  "  represented  with  just  half  the  quan- 
tity of  light  and  color  that  she  possesses." 


20 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  AGE. 


because  the  eye  has  no  greater  lateral  range  on  the  canvas 
than  in  the  landscape,  and  can  only  command  a  point  in  each. 
But  this  point  in  the  landscape  may  present  an  intersection 
of  lines  belonging  to  different  distances — as  when  a  branch  of 
a  tree,  or  tuft  of  grass,  cuts  against  the  horizon :  and  yet 
these  different  distances  cannot  be  discerned  together :  we 
lose  one  if  we  look  at  the  other,  so  that  no  painful  intersec- 
tion of  lines  is  ever  felt.  But  on  the  canvas,  as  the  lines  of 
foreground  and  of  distance  are  on  the  same  plane,  they  will 
be  seen  together  whenever  they  intersect,  painfully  and  dis- 
tinctly ;  and,  therefore,  unless  we  make  one  series,  whether 
near  or  distant,  obscure  and  indefinite,  we  shall  always  repre- 
sent as  visible  at  once  that  which  the  eye  can  only  perceive 
by  two  separate  acts  of  seeing.  Hold  up  your  finger  before 
this  page,  six  inches  from  it.  If  you  look  at  the  edge  of  your 
finger,  you  cannot  see  the  letters  ;  if  you  look  at  the  letters, 
you  cannot  see  the  edge  of  your  finger,  but  as  a  confused, 
double,  misty  line.  Hence  in  painting,  you  must  either  take 
for  your  subject  the  finger  or  the  letters  ;  you  cannot  paint 
both  distinctly  without  violation  of  truth.  It  is  of  no  conse- 
quence how  quick  the  change  of  the  eye  may  be  ;  it  is  not  one 
whit  quicker  than  its  change  from  one  part  of  the  horizon  to 
another,  nor  are  the  two  intersecting  distances  more  visible  at 
the  same  time  than  two  opposite  portions  of  a  landscape  to 
which  it  passes  in  succession.  Whenever,  therefore,  in  a  land- 
scape, we  look  from  the  foreground  to  the  distance,  the  fore- 
ground is  subjected  to  two  degrees  of  indistinctness  :  the  first, 
that  of  an  object  laterally  out  of  the  focus  of  the  eye  ;  and  the 
second,  that  of  an  object  directly  out  of  the  focus  of  the  eye  ; 
being  too  near  to  be  seen  with  the  focus  adapted  to  the  dis- 
tance. In  the  picture,  when  we  look  from  the  foreground  to 
the  distance,  the  foreground  is  subjected  only  to  one  degree 
of  indistinctness,  that  of  being  out  of  the  lateral  range ;  for 
as  both  the  painting  of  the  distance  and  of  the  foreground 
are  on  the  same  plane,  they  are  seen  together  with  the  same 
focus.  Hence  we  must  supply  the  second  degree  of  indistinct- 
ness by  slurring  with  the  brush,  or  we  shall  have  a  severe  and 
painful  intersection  of  near  and  distant  lines,  impossible  in 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


21 


nature.  Finally,  a  very  false  principle  is  implied  by  part  of 
what  is  advanced  by  your  critic — which  has  led  to  infinite 
error  in  art,  and  should  therefore  be  instantly  combated  when- 
ever it  were  hinted — that  the  ideal  is  different  from  the  true. 
It  is,  on  the  contrary,  only  the  perfection  of  truth.  The 
Apollo  is  not  a  false  representation  of  man,  but  the  most  per- 
fect representation  of  all  that  is  constant  and  essential  in  man 
■ — free  from  the  accidents  and  evils  which  corrupt  the  truth 
of  his  nature. 1  Supposing  we  are  describing  to  a  naturalist 
some  animal  he  does  not  know,  and  we  tell  him  we  saw  one 
with  a  hump  on  its  back,  and  another  with  strange  bends  in 
its  legs,  and  another  with  a  long  tail,  and  another  with  no 
tail,  he  will  ask  us  directly,  But  what  is  its  true  form,  what  is 
its  real  form  ?  This  truth,  this  reality,  which  he  requires  of 
us,  is  the  ideal  form,  that  which  is  hinted  at  by  all  the  indi- 
viduals— aimed  at,  but  not  arrived  at.  But  never  let  it  be 
said  that,  when  a  painter  is  defying  the  principles  of  nature 
at  every  roll  of  his  brush,  as  I  have  shown  that  Gaspar  does, 
when,  instead  of  working  out  the  essential  characters  of  spe- 
cific form,  and  raising  those  to  their  highest  degree  of  nobility 
and  beauty,  he  is  casting  all  character  aside,  and  carrying  out 
imperfection  and  accident  ;  never  let  it  be  said,  in  excuse  for 
such  degradation  of  nature,  that  it  is  done  in  pursuit  of  the 
ideal.  As  well  might  this  be  said  in  defence  of  the  promising 
sketch  of  the  human  form  pasted  on  the  wainscot  behind  the 
hope  of  the  family— artist  and  musician  of  equal  power — in 
the  "  Blind  Fiddler."  2    Ideal  beauty  is  the  generalization  of 

1  The  passage  in  the  Chronicle  ran  thus :  "  The  Apollo  is  hut  an  ideal 
of  the  human  form  ;  no  figure  ever  moulded  of  flesh  and  blood  was  like 
it."  With  the  objection  to  this  criticism  we  may  compare  Modern 
Painters  (vol.  i.,  where  the  ideal  is  defined  as  "  the  utmost  degree 
of  beauty  of  which  the  species  is  capable."  See  also  vol.  ii.  :  "  The 
perfect  idea  of  the  form  and  condition  in  which  all  the  properties  of 
the  species  are  fully  developed  is  called  the  Ideal  of  the  species  ;  " 
and  "  That  unfortunate  distinctness  between  Idealism  and  Realism 
which  leads  most  people  to  imagine  that  the  Ideal  is  opposed  to  the 
Heal,  and  therefore  false." 

2  This  picture  of  Sir  David  Wilkie's  was  presented  to  the  National 
Gallery  (No.  99)  by  Sir  George  Beaumont,  in  1826. 


22 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAVES. 


I 


consummate  knowledge,  the  concentration  of  perfect  truth—* 
not  the  abortive  vision  of  ignorance  in  its  study.  Nor  was 
there  ever  yet  one  conception  of  the  human  mind  beautiful, 
but  as  it  was  based  on  truth.  Whenever  we  leave  nature,  we 
fall  immeasurably  beneath  her.  So,  again,  I  find  fault  with 
the  4 £ ropy  wreath''  of  Gaspar,1  not  because  he  chose  massy 
cloud  instead  of  light  cloud ;  but  because  he  has  drawn  his 
massy  cloud  falsely,  making  it  look  tough  and  powerless,  like 
a  chain  of  Bologna  sausages,  instead  of  gifting  it  with  the 
frangible  and  elastic  vastness  of  nature's  mountain  vapor. 

Finally,  Sir,  why  must  it  be  only  "when  he  is  gone  from 
us  " 2  that  the  power  of  our  greatest  English  landscape  painter 
is  to  be  acknowledged"?  It  cannot,  indeed,  be  fully  under- 
stood until  the  current  of  years  has  swept  away  the  minor 
lights  which  stand  around  it,  and  left  it  burning  alone  ;  but 
at  least  the  scoff  and  the  sneer  might  be  lashed  into  silence, 
if  those  only  did  their  duty  by  whom  it  is  already  perceived. 
And  let  us  not  think  that  our  unworthiness  has  no  effect  on 
the  work  of  the  master.  I  could  be  patient  if  I  thought  that 
no  effect  was  wrought  on  his  noble  mind  by  the  cry  of  the 
populace  ;  but,  scorn  it  as  he  may,  and  does,  it  is  yet  impos- 
sible for  any  human  mind  to  hold  on  its  course,  with  the  same 
energy  and  life,  through  the  oppression  of  a  perpetual  hissing, 
as  when  it  is  cheered  on  by  the  quick  sympathy  of  its  fellow- 
men.  It  is  not  in  art  as  in  matters  of  political  duty,  where 
the  path  is  clear  and  the  end  visible.  The  springs  of  feeling 
may  be  oppressed  or  sealed  by  the  want  of  an  answer  in  other 
bosoms,  though  the  sense  of  principle  cannot  be  blunted  ex- 
cept by  the  individual's  own  error ;  and  though  the  knowl- 
edge of  what  is  right,  and  the  love  of  what  is  beautiful,  may 


1  The  bank  of  cloud  in  the  "  Sacrifice  of  Isaac"  is  spoken  of  in^Mod- 
ern  Painters  (vol.  i.,  p.  304,  Pt.  IE,  §  iii.,  cap.  3,  §  7),  as  "  a  ropy, 
tough-looking  wreath."    On  this  the  reviewer  commented. 

2  "We  agree, wrote  the  Chronicle,  "  with  the  writer  in  almost  every 
word  he  says  about  this  great  artist ;  and  we  have  no  doubt  that,  when 
he  is  gone  from  among  us,  his  memory  will  receive  the  honor  due  to 
his  living  genius."  See  also  the  postscript  to  the  first  volume  of  Mod- 
ern Painters,  written  hi  June,  1851. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


23 


still  support  our  great  painter  through  the  languor  of  age— 
and  Heaven  grant  it  may  for  years  to  come — yet  we  cannot 
hope  that  he  will  ever  cast  his  spirit  upon  the  canvas  with  the 
same  freedom  and  fire  as  if  he  felt  that  the  voice  of  its  in- 
spiration was  waited  for  among  men,  and  dwelt  upon  with 
devotion.  Once,  in  ruder  times,  the  work  of  a  great  painter  * 
was  waited  for  through  days  at  his  door,  and  attended  to  its 
place  of  deposition  by  the  enthusiasm  of  a  hundred  cities  ; 
and  painting  rose  from  that  time,  a  rainbow  upon  the  Seven 
Hills,  and  on  the  cypressed  heights  of  Fiesole,  guiding  them 
and  lighting  them  forever,  even  in  the  stillness  of  their  decay. 
How  can  we  hope  that  England  will  ever  win  for  herself  such 
a  crown,  while  the  works  of  her  highest  intellects  are  set  for 
the  pointing  of  the  finger  and  the  sarcasm  of  the  tongue,  and 
the  sole  reward  for  the  deep,  earnest,  holy  labor  of  a  devoted 
life,  is  the  weight  of  stone  upon  the  trampled  grave,  where 


*  Cimabue.  The  quarter  of  the  town  is  yet  named,  from 
the  rejoicing  of  that  day,  Borgo  Allegri.1  {Original  note  to  the 
letter  ■:  see  editor's  preface.} 


*  The  picture  thus  honored  was  that  of  the  Virgin,  painted  for  the 
Church  of  Santa  Maria  Novella,  where  it  now  hangs  in  the  Rucellai 
Chapel.  u  This  work  was  an  object  of  so  much  admiration  to  the  peo- 
ple, .  .  .  that  it  was  carried  in  solemn  procession,  with  the  sound  of 
trumpets  and  other  festal  demonstrations,  from  the  house  of  Cimabue  to 
the  church,  he  himself  being  highly  rewarded  and  honored  for  it.  It  is 
further  reported,  and  may  be  read  in  certain  records  of  old  painters, 
that  whilst  Cimabue  was  painting  this  picture  in  a  garden  near  the  gate 
of  San  Pietro,  King  Charles  the  Elder,  of  Anjou,  passed  through  Flor  - 
ence, and  the  authorities  of  the  city,  among  other  marks  of  respect,  con- 
ducted him  to  see  the  picture  of  Cimabue.  When  this  work  was  shown 
to  the  king,  it  had  not  before  been  seen  by  any  one  ;  wherefore  a]l  the 
men  and  women  of  Florence  hastened  in  great  crowds  to  admire  it, 
making  all  possible  demonstrations  of  delight.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
neighborhood,  rejoicing  in  this  occurrence,  ever  afterwards  called  that 
place  Borgo  Allegri  ;  and  this  name  it  has  since  retained,  although  in 
process  of  time  it  became  enclosed  within  the  walls  of  the  city — Vasari, 
Lives  of  Painters.  Bonn's  edition.  London,  1850.  Vol.  i.  p.  41.  This 
well-known  anecdote  may  also  be  found  in  Jameson's  Early  Italian 
Painters,  p.  12. 


24 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAGE. 


the  vain  and  idle  crowd  will  come  to  wonder  liow  the  brushes 
are  mimicked  in  the  marble  above  the  dust  of  him  who 
wielded  them  in  vain  ? 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  " Modern  Painters." 


[From  the-  "Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine"  (edited  by  E.  V.  Rippingille),  January, 

1843,  pp.  280-287.] 

ART  CRITICISM. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  u  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine" 

Sir — Anticipating,  with  much  interest,  your  reply  to  the 
candid  and  earnest  inquiries  of  your  unknown  correspondent, 
Matilda  Y.,1  I  am  led  to  hope  that  you  will  allow  me  to  have 
some  share  with  you  in  the  pleasant  task  of  confirming  an 
honest  mind  in  the  truth.  Subject  always  to  your  animadver- 
sion and  correction,  so  far  as  I  may  seem  to  you  to  be  led 
astray  by  my  peculiar  love  for  the  works  of  the  artist  to  whom 
her  letter  refers,  I  yet  trust  that  in  most  of  the  remarks  I  have 
to  make  on  the  points  which  have  perplexed  her,  I  shall  be 
expressing  not  only  your  own  opinions,  but  those  of  every 
other  accomplished  artist  who  is  really  acquainted — and  which 
of  our  English  masters  is  not? — with  the  noble  system  of 

1  This  letter  was  written  in  reply  to  one  signed  "  Matilda  Y.,"  which 
had  been  printed  in  the  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine,  p.  265,  Decem- 
ber, 1843,  and  which  related  to  the  opposite  opinions  held  by  different 
critics  of  the  works  of  Turner,  which  were  praised  by  some  as  "  beauti- 
ful and  profoundly  truthful  representations  of  nature,"  whilst  others 
declared  them  to  be  "  executed  without  end,  aim,  or  principle/'  ''May 
not  these  contradictions,"  wrote  the  correspondent,  in  the  passage 
alluded  to  by  Mr.  Buskin,  "be  in  a  great  measure  the  result  of  extreme 
ignorance  of  art  in  the  great  mass  of  those  persons  who  take  upon  them- 
selves the  office  of  critics  and  reviewers  ?  Can  any  one  be  a  judge  of  art 
whose  judgment  is  not  founded  on  an  accurate  knowledge  of  nature  ? 
It  is  scarcely  possible  that  a  mere  knowledge  of  pictures,  however  ex- 
tensive, can  qualify  a  man  for  the  arduous  and  responsible  duties  of 
public  criticism  of  art" 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


25 


poetry  and  philosophy  which  has  been  put  fortli  on  canvas, 
during  the  last  forty  years,  by  the  great  painter  who  has  pre- 
sented us  with  the  almost  unparalleled  example  of  a  man 
winning  for  himself  the  unanimous  plaudits  of  his  generation 
and  time,  and  then  casting  them  away  like  dust,  that  he  may 
build  his  monument — sere  perennius. 

Your  correspondent  herself,  in  saying  that  mere  knowledge 
of  pictiwes  cannot  qualify  a  man  for  the  office  of  a  critic,  has 
touched  the  first  source  of  the  schisms  of  the  present,  and  of 
all  time,  in  questions  of  pictorial  merit.  We  are  overwhelmed 
with  a  tribe  of  critics  who  are  fully  imbued  with  every  kind  of 
knowledge  which  is  useful  to  the  picture-dealer,  but  with  none 
that  is  important  to  the  artist.  They  know  where  a  picture 
has  been  retouched,  but  not  where  it  ought  to  have  been  ;  they 
know  if  it  has  been  injured,  but  not  if  the  injury  is  to  be 
regretted.  They  are  unquestionable  authorities*  in  all  matters 
relating  to  the  panel  or  the  canvas,  to  the  varnish  or  the 
vehicle,  while  they  remain  in  entire  ignorance  of  that  which 
the  vehicle  conveys.  They  are  well  acquainted  with,  the  tech- 
nical qualities  of  every  masters  touch  ;  and  when  their  dis- 
crimination fails,  plume  themselves  on  indisputable  tradition, 
and  point  triumphantly  to  the  documents  of  pictorial  geneal- 
ogy. But  they  never  go  quite  far  enough  back  ;  they  stor  one 
step  short  of  the  real  original ;  they  reach  the  human  one,  but 
never  the  Divine.  Whatever,  under  the  present  system  of 
study,  the  connoisseur  of  the  gallery  may  learn  or  know,  th^re 
is  one  thing  he  does  not  know — and  that  is  nature.  It  is  a 
pitiable  thing  to  hear  a  man  like  Dr.  Waagen,1  about  to  set 

1  Gustav  Friedrich  Waagen,  Director  of  the  Berlin  Gallery  from  1832 
until  liis  death  in  1868.  He  was  the  author  of  various  works  on  art, 
amongst  them  one  entitled  Works  of  Art  and  Artists  in  England  (Lon^ 
don,  1838),  which  is  that  alluded  to  here.  The  passage  quoted  concludes 
a  description  of  his  u  first  attempt  to  navigate  the  watery  paths,"  in  a 
voyage  from  Hamburg  to  the  London  Docks  (vol.  i.  p.  13).  His  criticism 
of  Turner  may  be  found  in  the  same  work  (vol.  ii.  p  80),  where  com- 
menting on  Turner's  "  Fishermen  endeavoring  to  put  their  fish  on 
board,"  then,  as  now,  in  the  gallery  of  Bridgewater  House  (No.  169), 
and  Which  was  painted  as  a  rival  to  the  great  sea-storm  of  Vandevelde, 
he  writes,  that  k'in  the  truth  of  clouds  and  waves"  ...  it  is  inferior 


26 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


the  seal  of  his  approbation,  or  the  brand  of  his  reprobation, 
on  all  the  pictures  in  our  island,  expressing  his  insipid  aston- 
ishment on  his  first  acquaintance  with  the  sea.  "For  the  first 
time  I  understood  the  truth  of  their  pictures  (Backhuysen's 
and  Van  de  Velde's),  and  the  refined  art  with  which,  by  inter- 
vening dashes  of  sunshine,  near  or  at  a  distance,  and  ships  to 
animate  the  scene,  they  produce  such  a  charming  variety  on  the 
surface  of  the  sea."  For  the  first  time  ! — and  yet  this  gallery- 
bred  judge,  this  discriminator  of  colored  shreds  and  canvas 
patches,  who  has  no  idea  how  ships  animate  the  sea,  until — 
charged  with  the  fates  of  the  Eoyal  Academy — he  ventures  his 
invaluable  person  from  Rotterdam  to  Greenwich,  will  walk  up 
to  the  work  of  a  man  whose  brow  is  hard  with  the  spray  of  a 
hundred  storms,  and  characterize  it  as  "wanting  in  truth  of 
clouds  and  waves  "  !  Alas  for  Art,  while  such  judges  sit  en- 
throned on  their  apathy  to  the  beautiful,  and  their  ignorance 
of  the  true,  and  with  a  canopy  of  canvas  between  them  and 
the  sky,  and  a  wall  of  tradition,  which  may  not  be  broken 
through,  concealing  from  them  the  horizon,  hurl  their  dark- 
ened verdicts  against  the  works  of  men,  whose  night  and  noon 
have  been  wet  with  the  dew  of  heaven — dwelling  on  the  deep 
sea,  or  wandering  among  the  solitary  places  of  the  earth,  until 
they  have  "  made  the  mountains,  waves,  and  skies  a  part  of 
them  and  of  their  souls." 


to  that  picture,  compared  with  which  "  it  appears  like  a  successful  piece 
of  scene-painting.  The  great  crowd  of  amateurs,  who  ask  nothing  more 
of  the  art,  will  always  far  prefer  Turner's  picture."  Dr.  Waagen  re- 
vised and  re-edited  his  book  in  a  second,  entitled,  Treasures  of  Art  in 
Great  Britain  (1854),  in  which  these  passages  are  repeated  with  slight 
verbal  alterations  (vol.  i.  p.  3,  vol.  ii.  p.  53).  In  this  work  he  acknowl- 
edges his  ignorance  of  Turner  at  the  time  the  first  was  written,  and  gives 
a  high  estimate  of  his  genius.  "  Buildings,  *'  he  writes,  "  he  treats  with 
peculiar  felicity,  while  the  sea  in  its  most  varied  aspects  is  equally  subser- 
vient to  his  magic  brush  99  !  !  He  adds,  that  but  for  one  deficiency,  the 
want  of  a  sound  technical  basis,  he  "should  not  hesitate  to  recognize 
Turner  as  the  greatest  landscape  painter  of  all  time  " !  With  regard, 
however,  to  the  above-named  picture,  it  may  be  remembered  that  Mr. 
Ruskin  has  himself  instanced  it  as  one  of  the  marine  pictures  which 
Turner  spoiled  by  imitation  of  Vandevelde  (Pre-Raphaelitism,  p.  45). 


LETTERS  ON  ART.  27 

When  information  so  narrow  is  yet  the  whole  stock  in  trade 
of  the  highest  authorities  of  the  day,  what  are  we  to  expect 
from  the  lowest  ?  Dr.  Waagen  is  a  most  favorable  specimen 
of  the  tribe  of  critics  ;  a  man,  we  may  suppose,  impartial, 
above  all  national  or  party  prejudice,  and  intimately  acquaint- 
ed with  that  half  of  his  subject  (the  technical  half)  which  is  all 
we  can  reasonably  expect  to  be  known  by  one  who  has  been 
trained  in  the  painting-room  instead  of  in  the  fields.  No  author- 
ity is  more  incontrovertible  in  all  questions  of  the  genuineness 
of  old  pictures.  He  has  at  least  the  merit — not  common 
among  those  who  talk  most  of  the  old  masters — of  knowing 
what  he  does  admire,  and  will  not  fall  into  the  same  raptures 
before  an  execrable  copy  as  before  the  original.  If,  then,  we 
find  a  man  of  this  real  judgment  in  those  matters  to  which 
his  attention  has  been  directed,  entirely  incapable,  owing  to 
his  ignorance  of  nature,  of  estimating  a  modern  picture,  what 
can  we  hope  from  those  lower  critics  who  are  unacquainted 
even  with  those  technical  characters  which  they  have  oppor- 
tunities of  learning  ?  What,  for  instance,  are  we  to  anticipate 
from  the  sapient  lucubrations  of  the  critic — for  some  years 
back  the  disgrace  of  the  pages  of  " Blackwood" — who  in  one 
breath  displays  his  knowledge  of  nature,  by  styling  a  painting 
of  a  furze  bush  in  the  bed  of  a  mountain  torrent  a  specimen 
of  the  "high  pastoral,"  and  in  the  next  his  knowledge  of  Art, 
by  informing  us  that  Mr.  Lee  "  reminds  him  of  Gainsborough's 
best  manner,  but  is  inferior  to  him  in  composition  "  ! 1  We 
do  not  mean  to  say  anything  against  Mr.  Lee  ;  but  can  we  for- 
bear to  smile  at  the  hopeless  innocence  of  the  man's  novitiate, 
who  could  be  reminded  by  them  of  landscapes  powerful 
enough  in  color  to  take  their  place  beside  those  of  Kembrandt 
or  Kubens  ?  A  little  attention  will  soon  convince  your  corre- 
spondent of  the  utter  futility  or  falsehood  of  the  ordinary  cri- 
tiques of  the  press  ;  and  there  could,  I  believe,  even  at  present 
be  little  doubt  in  her  mind  as  to  the  fitting  answer  to  the 
question,  whether  we  are  to  take  the  opinion  of  the  accom- 


1  See  the  Preface  to  the  second  edition  of  Modern  Painters  (vol.  i.  p, 
xix.,  etc.)    Frederick  Richard  Lee,  R.A.,  died  in  June,  1879. 


28 


ARROWS  OF  THE  -Oil ACE. 


plished  artist  or  of  the  common  newsmonger,  were  it  not 
for  a  misgiving  which,  be  she  conscious  of  it  or  not,  is  prob- 
ably floating  in  her  mind — whether  that  can  really  be  greed 
Art  which  has  no  influence  whatsoever  on  the  multitude, 
and  is  appreciable  only  by  the  initiated  few.  And  this  is 
the  real  question  of  difficulty.  It  is  easy  to  prove  that  such 
and  such  a  critic  is  wrong  ;  but  not  so,  to  prove  that  what 
everybody  dislikes  is  right.  It  is  fitting  to  pay  respect  to 
Sir  Augustus  Callcott,  but  is  it  so  to  take  his  word  against 
ail  the  world  ? 

This  inquiry  requires  to  be  followed  with  peculiar  caution  ; 
for  by  setting  at  defiance  the  judgment  of  the  public,  we  in 
some  sort  may  appear  to  justify  that  host  of  petty  scribblers, 
and  contemptible  painters,  who  in  all  time  have  used  the  same 
plea  in  defence  of  their  rejected  works,  and  have  received  in 
consequence  merciless  chastisement  from  contemporary  and 
powerful  authors  or  painters,  whose  reputation  was  as  universal 
as  it  was  just.  "  Mes  ouvrages,"  said  Kubens  to  his  challenger, 
Abraham  Janssens,  "ont  ete  exposes  en  Italie,  et  enEspagne, 
sans  que  j'aie  recti  la  nouvelle  de  leur  condamnation.  Vous 
n'avez  qu'a  soumettre  les  votres  a  la  mcme  epreuve." 1  "Je 
defie,"  says  Boileau,  "tous  les  amateurs  les  plus  mecontents 
du  public,  de  me  citer  un  bon  livre  que  le  public  ait  jamais 
rebute,  a  moins  qu'ils  ne  mettent  en  ce  rang  leur  ecrits,  de  la 
bonte  desquels  eux  seuls  sont  persuades." 

Now  the  fact  is,  that  the  whole  difficulty  of  the  question  is 
caused  by  the  ambiguity  of  this  word — the  "  public. "  Whom 
does  it  include  ?  People  continually  forget  that  there  is  a 
separate  public  for  every  picture,  and  for  every  book.  Ap- 
pealed to  with  reference  to  any  particular  work,  the  public  is 
that  class  of  persons  who  possess  the  knowledge  which  it  pre- 

1  Abraham  Janssens,  in  his  jealousy  of  Rubens,  proposed  to  him  that 
they  should  each  paint  a  picture,  and  submit  the  rival  works  to  the  de- 
cision of  the  public.  Mr.  Ruskin  gives  Rubens'  reply,  the  tenor  of 
which  may  be  found  in  any  life  of  the  artist.  See  Hasselt's  Histoire  de 
Rubens  (Brussels,  1840),  p.  48,  from  which  Mr.  Raskin  quotes  ;  Des- 
camps,  vol.  i.  p.  804  ;  Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painting,  Bohn's  octavo 
edition,  p.  306. 


LETTERS  OK  ART. 


suppose^  and  the  faculties  to  which  it  is  addressed.  With 
reference  to  a  new  edition  of  Newton's  Principia,  the  "  public  " 
means  little  more  than  the  Royal  Society.  With  reference  tp 
one  of  Wordsworth's  poems,  it  means  all  who  have  hearts. 
With  reference  to  one  of  Moore's,  all  who  have  passions. 
With  reference  to  the  works  of  Hogarth,  it  means  those  wliG 
have  wTorldly  knowledge  — to  the  works  of  Giotto,  those  who 
have  religious  faith.  Each  work  must  be  tested  exclusively  by 
the  fiat  of  the  particular  public  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  We 
will  listen  to  no  comments  on  Newton  from  people  who  have 
no  mathematical  knowledge  ;  to  none  on  Wordsworth  from 
those  who  have  no  hearts ;  to  none  on  Giotto  from  those  who 
have  no  religion.  Therefore,  when  we  have  to  form  a  judg- 
ment of  any  new  work,  the  question  "What  do  the  public  say 
to  it  ?  "  is'  indeed  of  vital  importance  ;  but  we  must  always  in- 
quire, first,  who  are  Us  public?  We  must  not  submit  a 
treatise  on  moral  philosophy  to  a  conclave  of  horse-jockeys, 
nor  a  work  of  deep  artistical  research  to  the  writers  for  the 
Art  Union. 

The  public,  then,  we  repeat,  when  referred  to  with  respect 
to  a  particular  work,  consist  only  of  those  who  have  knowl- 
edge of  its  subject,  and  are  possessed  of  the  faculties  to 
which  it  is  addressed. 

If  it  fail  of  touching  these,  the  work  is  a  bad  one  ;  but  it  in 
no  degree  militates  against  it  that  it  is  rejected  by  those  to 
whom  it  does  not  appeal.  To  whom,  then,  let  us  ask,  and 
to  what  public  do  the  works  of  Turner  appeal  ?  To  those 
only  we  reply,  who  have  profound  and  disciplined  acquaintance 
with  nature,  ardent  poetical  feeling,  and  keen  eye  for  color 
(a  faculty  far  more  rare  than  an  ear  for  music).  They  are 
deeply-toned  poems,  intended  for  all  who  love  poetry,  but  not 
for  those  who  delight  in  mimicries  of  wine-glasses  and  nut- 
shells. The}'  are  deep  treatises  on  natural  phenomena,  in- 
tended for  all  who  are  acquainted  with  such  phenomena,  but 
not  for  those  who,  like  the  painter  Barry,  are  amazed  at  find- 
ing the  realities  of  the  Alps  grander  than  the  imaginations  of 
Salvator,  and  assert  that  they  saw  the  moon  from  the  Mont 
Cenis  four  times  as  big  as  usual,  "  from  being  so  much  nearer 


30 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Oil  ACE. 


to  it "  !  *  And  they  are  studied  melodies  of  exquisite  color, 
intended  for  those  who  have  perception  of  color ;  not  for 
those  who  fancy  that  all  trees  are  Prussian  green.  Then  comes 
the  question,  Were  the  works  of  Turner  ever  rejected  by  any 
person  possessing  even  partially  these  qualifications?  We 
answer  boldly,  never.  On  the  contrary,  they  are  universally 
hailed  by  this  public  with  an  enthusiasm  not  undeserving  in 
appearance — at  least  to  those  who  are  debarred  from  sharing 
in  it,  of  its  usual  sobriquet — the  Turner  mania. 

Is,  then,  the  number  of  those  who  are  acquainted  with  the 
truth  of  nature  so  limited  ?  So  it  has  been  asserted  by  one 
who  knew  much  both  of  Art  and  Nature,  and  both  were 
glorious  in  his  country,  f 


*  This  is  a  singular  instance  of  the  profound  ignorance  of 
landscape  in  which  great  and  intellectual  painters  of  the 
human  form  may  remain  ;  an  ignorance,  which  commonly  ren- 
ders their  remarks  on  landscape  painting  nugatory,  if  not 
false. 1 

f  Plato. — "  Hippias.    Men  do  not  commonly  say  so. 

Socrates.   Who  do  not  say  so — those  who  know, 

or  those  who  do  not  know  ? 
Hippias.    The  multitude. 

Socrates.    Are  then  the  multitude  acquainted 

with  truth  ? 
Hippias.    Certainly  not." 
The  answer  is  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  sophist ;  but  put 
as  an  established  fact,  which  he  cannot  possibly  deny.2 


1  The  amazement  of  the  painter  is  underrated  :  "  You  will  believe  me 
much  nearer  heaven  upon  Mount  Cenis  than  I  was  before,  or  shall  prob- 
ably be  again  for  some  time.  We  passed  this  mountain  on  Sunday  last, 
and  about  seven  in  the  morning  were  near  the  top  of  the  road  over  it, 
on  both  sides  of  which  the  mountain  rises  to  a  very  great  height,  yet  so 
high  were  we  in  the  valley  between  them  that  the  moon,  which  was 
above  the  horizon  of  the  mountains,  appeared  at  least  five  times  as  big 
as  usual,  and  much  more  distinctly  marked  than  I  ever  saw  it  through 
some  very  good  telescopes." — Letter  to  Edmund  Burke,  dated  Turin, 
Sept.  24,  1706.  Works  of  James  Barry,  R.A.,  2  vols.,  quarto  (London, 
1809),  vol.  i.  p.  58.    He  died  in  1806. 

*  Plato :  Hippias  Major,  284  E.  Steph. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


31 


46  HI.     Ov  fievTOL  ct{jiOa(TiV  avOpiairoi  dvofjid&iv  ovrws. 
212.     HoTcpov,  w  "linria,  ol  ciSoVes  rj  ol  txrj  ellSores ; 
III.     Ol  ttoXXol. 

SO.     Etcrl  8'  ovtol  ol  ctSores  raX-qOi^,  ol  ttoXXol; 
in.     Ov  8r)Ta." 

Hippias  Major. 

Now,  we  are  not  inclined  to  go  quite  so  far  as  this.  There 
are  many  subjects  with  respect  to  which  the  multitude  are 
cognizant  of  truth,  or  at  least  of  some  truth  ;  and  those  sub- 
jects may  be  generally  characterized  as  everything  which  ma- 
terially concerns  themselves  or  their  interests.  The  public 
are  acquainted  with  the  nature  of  their  own  passions  and  the 
point  of  their  own  calamities — can  laugh  at  the  weakness  they 
feel,  and  weep  at  the  miseries  they  have  experienced  ;  but  all 
the  sagacity  they  possess,  be  it  how  great  soever,  will  not  en- 
able them  to  judge  of  likeness  to  that  which  they  have  never 
seen,  nor  to  acknowledge  principles  on  which  they  have  never 
reflected.  Of  a  comedy  or  a  drama,  an  epigram  or  a  ballad, 
they  are  judges  from  whom  there  is  no  appeal  ;  but  not  of 
the  representation  of  facts  which  they  have  never  examined, 
of  beauties  which  they  have  never  loved.  It  is  not  sufficient 
that  the  facts  or  the  features  of  nature  be  around  us,  while 
they  are  not  within  us.  We  may  walk  day  by  day  through 
grove  and  meadow,  and  scarcely  know  more  concerning  them 
than  is  known  by  bird  and  beast,  that  the  one  has  shade  for 
the  head,  and  the  other  softness  for  the  foot.  It  is  not  true 
that  "the  eye,  it  cannot  choose  but  see,"  unless  we  obey  the 
following  condition,  and  go  forth  "in  a  wise  passiveness,"  1 
free  from  that  plague  of  our  own  hearts  which  brings  the 
shadow  of  ourselves,  and  the  tumult  of  our  petty  interests 
and  impatient  passions,  across  the  light  and  calm  of  Nature. 
We  do  not  sit  at  the  feet  of  our  mistress  to  listen  to  her 
teachings  ;  but  we  seek  her  only  to  drag  from  her  that  which 
may  suit  our  purpose,  to  see  in  her  the  confirmation  of  a  theory, 
or  find  in  her  fuel  for  our  pride.    Nay,  do  we  often  go  to  her 

1  Wordsworth.  Poems  of  Sentiment  and  Reflection,  i.  Expostulation 
and  Reply. 


32 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAOE. 


even  thus  ?  Have  we  not  rather  cause  to  take  to  ourselves 
the  full  weight  of  Wordsworth's  noble  appeal — 

"  Vain  pleasures  of  luxurious  life  ! 
Forever  with  yourselves  at  strife, 
Through  town  and  country,  both  deranged 
By  affections  interchanged, 
And  all  the  perishable  gauds 
That  heaven -deserted  man  applauds. 
When  will  your  hapless  patrons  learn 
To  watch  and  ponder,  to  discern 
The  freshness,  the  eternal  youth 
Of  admiration,  sprung  from  truth, 
From  beauty  infinitely  growing 
Upon  a  mind  with  love  o'erflowing : 
To  sound  the  depths  of  every  art 
That  seeks  its  wisdom  through  the  heart  ?  " 1 

When  will  they  learn  it?  Hardly,  we  fear,  in  this  age  of 
steam  and  iron,  luxury  and  selfishness.  We  grow  more  and 
more  artificial  day  by  day,  and  see  less  and  less  worthiness  in 
those  pleasures  which  bring  with  them  no  morbid  excitement, 
in  that  knowledge  which  affords  us  no  opportunity  of  display. 
Your  correspondent  may  rest  assured  that  those  who  do  not 
care  for  nature,  who  do  not  love  her,  cannot  see  her.  A  few 
of  her  phenomena  lie  on  the  surface  ;  the  nobler  number  lie 
deep,  and  are  the  reward  of  watching  and  of  thought.  The 
artist  may  choose  ivhich  he  will  render  :  no  human  art  can 
render  both.  If  he  paint  the  surface,  he  will  catch  the  crowd  ; 
if  he  paint  the  depth,  he  will  be  admired  only — but  with  how 
deep  and  fervent  admiration,  none  but  they  who  feel  it  can 
tell — by  the  thoughtful  and  observant  few. 

There  are  some  admirable  observations  on  this  subject  in  your 
December  number  (u  An  Evening's  Gossip  with  a  Painter"2)  ; 

1  Memorials  of  a  Tour  in  Scotland.    1814.    iii.  Effusion. 

2  See  the  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine,  p.  248.  The  article  named 
was  written  in  dialogue,  and  in  the  passage  alluded  to  u  Palette,'  an 
artist,  points  out  to  his  companion  u  Chat  worthy,''  who  represents  the 
general  public,  that  "  next  to  the  highest  authorities  in  Art  are  the 
pure,  natural,  untainted,  highly  educated,  and  intelligent/^."  The 
argument  is  continued  over  some  pages,  but  although  the  Magazine  is 
not  now  readily  accessible  to  the  ordinary  reader,  it  will  not  be  thought 
necessary  to  go  further  into  the  discussion. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


33 


hut  there  is  one  circumstance  with  respect  to  the  works 
of  Turner  which  yet  further  limits  the  number  of  their  ad- 
mirers. They  are  not  prosaic  statements  of  the  phenomena 
of  nature — they  are  statements  of  them  under  the  influence 
of  ardent  feeling  ;  they  are.  in  a  word,  the  most  fervent  and 
real  poetry  which  the  English  nation  is  at  present  producing. 
Now  not  only  is  this  proverbially  an  age  in  which  poetry  is 
little  cared  for  ;  but  even  with  those  who  have  most  love  of 
it,  and  most  need  of  it,  it  requires,  especially  if  high  and  philo- 
sophical, an  attuned,  quiet,  and  exalted  frame  of  mind  for  its 
enjoyment ;  and  if  dragged  into  the  midst  of  the  noisy  inter- 
ests of  every-day  life,  may  easily  be  made  ridiculous  or  offen- 
sive. Wordsworth  recited,  by  Mr.  Wakley,  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  in  the  middle  of  a  financial  debate,  would  sound, 
in  all  probability,  very  like  Mr.  Wakley's  1  own  verses.  Words- 
worth, read  in  the  stillness  of  a  mountain  hollow,  has  the  force 
of  the  mountain  waters.  What  would  be  the  effect  of  a  pas- 
sage of  Milton  recited  in  the  middle  of  a  pantomime,  or  of  a 
dreamy  stanza  of  Shelley  upon  the  Stock  Exchange  ?  Are  we 
to  judge  of  the  nightingale  by  hearing  it  sing  in  broad  day- 
light in  Cheapside  ?  Eor  just  such  a  judgment  do  we  form  of 
Turner  by  standing  before  his  pictures  in  the  Koyal  Academy. 
It  is  a  strange  thing  that  the  public  never  seem  to  suspect 
that  there  may  be  a  poetry  in  painting,  to  meet  which,  some 
preparation  of  sympathy,  some  harmony  of  circumstance,  is 
required  ;  and  that  it  is  just  as  impossible  to  see  half  a  dozen 
great  pictures  as  to  read  half  a  dozen  great  poems  at  the  same 
time,  if  their  tendencies  or  their  tones  of  feeling  be  contrary 
or  discordant.  Let  us  imagine  what  would  be  the  effect  on 
the  mind  of  any  man  of  feeling,  to  whom  an  eager  friend,  de- 
sirous of  impressing  upon  him  the  merit  of  different  poets, 
should  read  successively,  and  without  a  pause,  the  following 

1  Mr.  Thomas  Wakley,  at  this  time  M.P.  for  Finsbury,  and  coroner 
for  Middlesex.  He  was  the  founder  of  the  Lancet,  and  took  a  deep  in- 
terest in  medicine,  which  he  at  one  time  practised.  I  do  not  find,  how- 
ever, that  he  published  any  volume  of  poems,  though  he  may  well  have 
been  the  author,  as  the  letter  seems  to  imply,  of  some  occasional  verses. 
He  died  in  1862. 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


passages,  in  which  lie  something  of  the  prevailing  character 
of  the  works  of  six  of  our  greatest  modern  artists : 

Landseer. 

"  His  hair,  liis  size,  his  mouth,  his  lugs, 
Show'd  he  was  nane  o1  Scotland's  dougs, 
But  whalpit  some  place  far  abroad 
Whar  sailors  gang  to  fish  for  cod."  1 

Martin. 

14  Far  in  the  horizon  to  the  north  appeared, 
From  skirt  to  skirt,  a  fiery  region,  stretched 
In  battailous  aspect,  and  nearer  view 
Bristled  with  upright  beams  innumerable 
Of  rigid  spears,  and  helmets  throng' d,  and  shields 
Various,  with  boastful  argument  portray 'd." 

WlLKIE. 

"  The  risin'  moon  began  to  glowr 
The  distant  Cumnock  hills  out  owre  ; 
To  count  her  horns,  wi'  a'  my  pow'r, 

I  set  mysel' ; 
But  whether  she  had  three  or  fowr, 

I  couldna  tell." 

Eastlake. 

"  And  thou,  who  tell'st  me  to  forget, 
Thy  looks  are  wan,  thine  eyes  are  wet." 

Stanfield. 

"  Ye  mariners  of  England, 
Who  guard  our  native  seas, 
Whose  flag  has  braved  a  thousand  years 
The  battle  and  the  breeze." 

Turner. 

"  The  point  of  one  white  star  is  quivering  still, 
Deep  in  the  orange  light  of  widening  dawn, 
Beyond  the  purple  mountains.    Through  a  chasm 
Of  wind-divided  mist  the  darker  lake 
Reflects  it,  now  it  fades  :  it  gleams  again, 

1  The  references  to  this  and  the  five  passages  following  are  (1)  Burns, 
The  Twa  Dogs  ;  (2)  Milton,  Paradise  Lost,  vi.  79  ;  (3)  Burns,  Death 
and  Doctor  Hornbook  ;  (4)  Byron,  Hebrew  Melodies,  Oh !  snatched 
away  in  beauty's  bloom  ;  (5)  Campbell ;  and  (6)  Shelley,  Prometheus 
Unbound,  Act.  ii.  sc.  1. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


35 


As  the  waves  fall,  and  as  the  burning  threads 

Of  woven  cloud  unravel  in  pale  air, 

'Tis  lost !  and  through  yon  peaks  of  cloud-like  snow 

The  roseate  sunlight  quivers/' 

Precisely  to  sucli  advantage  as  the  above  passages,  so 
placed,1  appear,  are  the  works  of  any  painter  of  mind  seen  in 
the  Academy.  None  suffer  more  than  Turner's,  which  are 
not  only  interfered  with  by  the  prosaic  pictures  around  them, 
but  neutralize  each  other.  Two  works  of  his,  side  by  side, 
destroy  each  other  to  a  dead  certainty,  for  each  is  so  vast,  so 
complete,  so  demandant  of  every  power,  so  sufficient  for  every 
desire  of  the  mind,  that  it  is  utterly  impossible  for  two  to 
be  comprehended  together.  Each  must  have  the  undivided 
intellect,  and  each  is  destroyed  by  the  attraction  of  the  other  ; 
and  it  is  the  chief  power  and  might  of  these  pictures,  that 
they  are  works  for  the  closet  and  the  heart — works  to  be 
dwelt  upon  separately  and  devotedly,  and  then  chiefly  when 
the  mind  is  in  its  highest  tone,  and  desirous  of  a  beauty 
which  may  be  food  for  its  immortality.  It  is  the  very  stamp 
and  essence  of  the  purest  poetry,  that  it  can  only  be  so  met 
and  understood  ;  and  that  the  clash  of  common  interests, 
and  the  roar  of  the  selfish  world,  must  be  hushed  about  the 
heart,  before  it  can  hear  the  still,  small  voice,  wherein  rests 
the  power  communicated  from  the  Holiest.* 

Can,  then, — will  be,  if  I  mistake  not,  the  final  inquiry  of 


1  It  will  be  felt  at  once  that  Hie  more  serious  and  higher  passages 
generally  suffer  most.  But  Stanfield,  little  as  it  may  be  thought,  suffers 
grievously  in  the  Academy,  just  as  the  fine  passage  from  Campbell  is 
ruined  by  its  position  between  the  perfect  tenderness  of  Byron  and 
Shelley.    The  more  vulgar  a  picture  is,  the  better  it  bears  the  Academy. 

*  Although  it  is  inverse  that  the  most  consummate  skill 
in  composition  is  to  be  looked  for,  and  all  the  artifices  of  lan- 
guage displayed,  yet  it  is  in  verse  only  that  we  throw  off  the 
yoke  of  the  world,  and  are,  as  it  were,  privileged  to  utter  our 
deepest  and  holiest  feelings.  Poetry  in  this  respect  may  be 
called  the  salt  of  the  earth.  We  express  in  it,  and  receive  in 
it,  sentiments  for  which,  were  it  not  for  this  permitted  me- 
dium, the  usages  of  the  world  would  neither  allow  utterance 


36 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CM  ACE, 


your  correspondent, — can,  then,  we  ordinary  mortals, — can  \ 
who  am  not  Sir  Augustus  Callcott,  nor  Sir  Francis  Chantrey, 
ever  derive  any  pleasure  from  works  of  this  lofty  character  ? 
Heaven  forbid,  we  reply,  that  it  should  be  otherwise.  Nothing 
more  is  necessary  for  the  appreciation  of  them,  than  that  which 
is  necessary  for  the  appreciation  of  any  great  writer — the 
quiet  study  of  him  with  an  humble  heart.  There  are,  indeed, 
technical  qualities,  difficulties  overcome  and  principles  devel- 
oped, which  are  reserved  for  the  enjoyment  of  the  artist ;  but 
these  do  not  add  to  the  influence  of  the  picture.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  must  break  through  its  charm,  before  we  can  com- 
prehend its  means,  and  "  murder  to  dissect."  The  picture  is 
intended,  not  for  artists  alone,  but  for  all  who  love  what  it 
portrays  ;  and  so  little  doubt  have  we  of  the  capacity  of  all  to 
understand  the  works  in  question,  that  we  have  the  most  con- 
fident expectation,  within  the  next  fifty  years,  of  seeing  the 
name  of  Turner  placed  on  the  same  impregnable  height  with 
that  of  Shakespeare.1    Both  have  committed  errors  of  taste 

nor  acceptance." — Southeys  Colloquies.'1  Such  allowance  is 
never  made  to  the  painter.  In  him,  inspiration  is  called  in- 
sanity— in  him,  the  sacred  fire,  possession. 

1  u  This  Turner,  of  whom  you  have  known  so  little  while  he  was  liv- 
ing among  you,  will  one  day  take  his  place  beside  Shakespeare  and 
Verulam,  in  the  annals  of  the  light  of  England. 

44  Yes:  beside  Shakespeare  and  Verulam,  a  third  star  in  that  central 
constellation,  round  which,  in  the  astronomy  of  intellect,  all  other  stars 
make  their  circuit.  By  Shakespeare,  humanity  was  unsealed  to  you  ; 
by  Verulam  the  principles  of  nature ;  and  by  Turner,  her  aspect.  All  these 
were  sent  to  unlock  one  of  the  gates  of  light,  and  to  unlock  it  for  the 
first  time.  But  of  all  the  three,  though  not  the  greatest,  Turner  was 
the  most  unprecedented  in  his  work.  Bacon  did  what  Aristotle  had  at- 
tempted ;  Shakespeare  did  perfectly  what  iEschylus  did  partially  ;  but 
none  before  Turner  had  lifted  the  veil  from  the  face  of  nature  ;  the 
majesty  of  the  hills  and  forests  had  received  no  interpretation,  and  the 
clouds  passed  unrecorded  from  the  face  of  the  heavens  which  they 
adorned,  and  of  the  earth  to  which  they  ministered."- — Lectures  on  Ar- 
chitecture and  Painting,  by  John  Ruskin  ;  published  1854  ;  pp.  180,  181. 


8  Sir  Thomas  More  ;  or,  Colloquies  on  the  Progress  and  Prospects  of 
Society.    Colloquy  xiv.  (vol.  ii.  p.  399,  in  Murray's  edition,  1829). 


LETTERS  ON  ART.. 


37 


and  judgment.  In  both  it  is,  or  will  be,  heresy  even  to  feei 
tnose  errors,  so  entirely  are  they  overbalanced  by  the  gigantis 
powers  of  whose  impetuosity  they  are  the  result.  So  soon  aa 
the  public  are  convinced,  by  the  maintained  testimony  of  high 
authority,  that  Turner  is  worth  understanding,  they  will  try  to 
understand  him ;  and  if  they  try,  they  can.  Nor  are  they, 
now,  as  is  commonly  thought,  despised  or  defied  by  him.  He 
has  too  much  respect  for  them  to  endeavor  to  please  them  by 
falsehood.  He  will  not  win  for  himself  a  hearing  by  the  be- 
trayal of  his  message. 

Finally,  then,  we  would  recommend  your  correspondent, 
first,  to  divest  herself  of  every  atom  of  lingering  respect  or 
regard  for  the  common  criticism  of  the  press,  and  to  hold  fast 
by  the  authority  of  Callcott,  Chantrey,  Landseer,  and  Stanfield ; 
and  this,  not  because  we  would  have  her  slavishly  subject  to 
any  authority  but  that  of  her  own  eyes  and  reason,  but  because 
we  would  not  have  her  blown  about  wTith  every  wind  of  doc- 
trine, before  she  has  convinced  her  reason  or  learned  to  use 
her  eyes.  And  if  she  can  draw  at  all,  let  her  make  careful 
studies  of  any  natural  objects  that  may  happen  to  come  in  her 
way, — sticks,  leaves,  or  stones, — and  of  distant  atmospheric 
effects  on  groups  of  objects  ;  not  for  the  sake  of  the  drawing 
itself,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  powers  of  attention  and  accurate 
observation  which  thus  only  can  be  cultivated.  And  let  her 
make  the  study,  not  thinking  of  this  artist  or  of  that ;  not 
conjecturing  what  Harding  would  have  done,  or  Stanneld,  or 
Callcott,  with  her  subject ;  nor  trying  to  draw  in  a  bold  style, 
or  a  free  style,  or  any  other  style  ;  but  drawing  all  she  sees,  as 
far  as  may  be  in  her  power,  earnestly,  faithfully,  unseiectingly  ; 
and,  which  is  perhaps  the  more  difficult  task  of  the  two,  not 
drawing  what  she  does  not  see.  Oh,  if  people  did  but  know 
how  many  lines  nature  suggests  without  showing,  wThat  differ- 
ent art  should  we  have  !  And  let  her  never  be  discouraged  by 
ill  success.  She  will  seldom  have  gained  more  knowledge  than 
when  she  most  feels  her  failure.  Let  her  use  every  oppor- 
tunity of  examining  the  works  of  Turner  ;  let  her  try  to  copy 
them,  then  try  to  copy  some  one  else's,  and  observe  which 
presents  most  of  that  kind  of  difficulty  which  she  found  iii 


38 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  AGE. 


copying  nature.  Let  her,  if  possible,  extend  her  acquaintance 
with  wild  natural  scenery  of  every  kind  and  character,  endeav- 
oring in  each  species  of  scenery  to  distinguish  those  features 
which  are  expressive  and  harmonious  from  those  which  are 
unaffecting  or  incongruous  ;  and  after  a  year  or  two  of  such 
discipline  as  this,  let  her  judge  for  herself.  No  authority  need 
then,  or  can  then,  be  very  influential  with  her.  Her  own 
pleasure  in  works  of  true  greatness  1  will  be  too  real,  too 
instinctive,  to  be  persuaded  or  laughed  out  of  her.  We  bid 
her,  therefore,  heartily  good-speed,  with  this  final  warning : 
Let  her  beware,  in  going  to  nature,  of  taking  with  her  the 
commonplace  dogmas  or  dicta  of  art.  Let  her  not  look  for 
what  is  like  Titian  or  like  Claude,  for  composed  form  or  ar- 
ranged chiaroscuro ;  but  believe  that  everything  which  God  has 
made  is  beautiful,  and  that  everything  which  nature  teaches 
is  true.  Let  her  beware,  above  everything,  of  that  wicked 
pride  which  makes  man  think  he  can  dignify  God's  glorious 
creations,  or  exalt  the  majesty  of  his  universe.  Let  her  be 
humble,  we  repeat,  and  earnest.  Truth  wras  never  sealed,  if  so 
sought.  And  once  more  we  bid  her  good- speed  in  the  words 
of  our  poet-moralist ; 

"  Enough  of  Science  and  of  Art  : 
Seal  up  these  barren  leaves  ; 
Come  forth,  and  bring  with  you  a  heart 
That  watches,  and  receives."  2 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  humble  servant, 

The  Author  of  "  Modern  Painters.  '* 


1  VV^e  have  not  sufficiently  expressed  our  concurrence  in  the  opinion 
of  her  friend,  that  Turner's  modern  works  are  his  greatest.  His  early 
ones  are  nothing  but  amplifications  of  what  others  have  done,  or  hard 
studies  of  every-day  truth.  His  later  works  no  one  but  himself  could 
have  conceived  :  they  are  the  result  of  the  most  exalted  imagination, 
acting  with  the  knowledge  acquired  by  means  of  his  former  works. 

2  Wordsworth.  Poems  of  Sentiment  and  Reflection,  ii.  The  Tables 
Turned  (1798),  being  the  companion  poem  to  that  quoted  ante,  p.  32. 
The  second  line  should  read,  #  Close  up  these  barren Jleaves.*' 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


39 


[From  "Some  Account  of  the  Origin  and  Objects  of  the  New  Oxford  Examinations  for 
the  Title  of  Associate  in  Arts  and  Certificates,"  by  T.  D.  Aciand,  late  Fellow  of  All 
Souls'  College,  Oxford, '  1858,  pp.  54-00.] 

THE  ARTS  AS  A   BRANCH  OF  EDUCATION. 

Penrith,  Sept  25,  1857. 
My  dear  Sir  :  I  have  just  received  your  most  interesting 
letter,  and  will  try  to  answer  as  shortly  as  I  can,  saying  nothing 
of  what  I  feel,  and  what  you  must  well  know  I  should  feel, 
respecting  the  difficulty  of  the  questions  and  their  importance  ; 
except  only  this,  that  I  should  not  have  had  the  boldness  to 
answer  your  letter  by  return  of  post,  unless,  in  consequence  of 
conversations  on  this  subject  with  Mr.  Aciand  and  Dr.  Aciand, 
two  months  ago,  I  had  been  lately  thinking  of  it  more  than  of 
any  other.2 

Your  questions  fall  under  two  heads  :  (1)  The  range  which 
an  art  examination  can  take  ;  (2)  The  connection  in  which  it 
should  be  placed  with  other  examinations. 

I  think  the  art  examination  should  have  three  objects  : 
(1)  To  put  the  happiness  and  knowledge  which  the  study 
of  art  conveys  within  the  conception  of  the  youth,  so  that  he 
may  in  after-life  pursue  them,  if  he  has  the  gift. 

1  This  work  related  to  University  co-operation  with  schemes  for  mid- 
dle-class education,  and  included  letters  from  various  authorities, 
amongst  others  one  from  Mr.  Hullah  on  Music.  The  present  letter  was 
addressed  to  the  Rev.  F.  Temple  (now  Bishop  of  Exeter),  and  was  writ- 
ten in  reply  to  a  statement  of  certain  points  in  debate  between  him  and 
Mr.  (now  Sir  Thomas)  Aciand.  In  forwarding  it  to  his  opponent,  Mr. 
Temple  wrote  as  follows:  k'The  liberal  arts  are  supreme  over  their 
sciences.  Instead  of  the  rules  being  despotic,  the  great  artist  usually 
proves  his  greatness  by  rightly  setting  aside  rules  ;  and  the  great  critic 
is  he  who,  while  he  knows  the  rule,  can  appreciate  the  1  law  within  the 
law '  which  overrides  the  rule.  In  no  other  way  does  Ruskin  so  fully 
show  his  greatness  in  criticism  as  in  that  fine  inconsistency  for  which  he 
has  been  so  often  attacked  by  men  who  do  not  see  the  real  consistency 
that  lies  beneath, " 

2  In  the  following  year  Mr.  Ruskin  wrote  a  paper  for  the  National 
Association  for  the  Promotion  of  Social  Science,  on  Education  in  Art 
(Transactions,  1858,  pp.  311-316),  now  reprinted  in  the  eleventh  vol- 
ume of  Mr.  Ruskin's  works,  A  Joy  for  Ever,  pages  119-126.  To  thia 
paper  the  reader  of  the  present  letter  is  referred. 


40 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CI1ACE. 


(2)  To  enforce,  as  far  as  possible,  such  knowledge  of  art 
among  those  who  are  likely  to  become  its  patrons,  or  the 
guardians  of  its  works,  as  may  enable  them  usefully  to  fulfil 
those  duties. 

(3)  To  distinguish  pre-eminent  gift  for  the  production  of 
works  of  art,  so  as  to  get  hold  of  all  the  good  artistical  faculty 
born  in  the  country,  and  leave  no  Giotto  lost  among  hill-shep- 
herds.1 

In  order  to  accomplish  the  first  object,  I  think  that,  accord- 
ing to  Mr.  Acland's  proposal,  preliminary  knowledge  of  draw- 
ing and  music  should  be  asked  for,  in  connection  with  writ- 
ing and  arithmetic  ;  but  not,  in  the  preliminary  examination, 
made  to  count  towards  distinction  in  other  schools.  I  think 
drawing  is  a  necessary  means  of  the  expression  of  certain 
facts  of  form  and  means  of  acquaintance  with  them,  as  arith- 
metic is  the  means  of  acquaintance  with  facts  of  number.  I 
think  the  facts  which  an  elementary  knowledge  of  drawing 
enables  a  man  to  observe  and  note  are  often  of  as  much  im- 
portance to  him  as  those  which  he  can  describe  in  words  or 
calculate  in  numbers.  And  I  think  the  cases  in  which  mental 
deficiency  would  prevent  the  acquirement  of  a  serviceable 
power  of  drawing  would  be  found  as  rare  as  those  in  which 
no  progress  could  be  made  in  arithmetic.  I  would  not  desire 
this  elementary  knowledge  to  extend  far,  but  the  limits  which 
I  would  propose  are  not  here  in  question.  While  I  feel  the 
force  of  all  the  admirable  observations  of  Mr.  Hullah  on  the 
use  of  the  study  of  music,  I  imagine  that  the  cases  of  physi- 
cal incapacity  of  distinguishing  sounds  would  be  too  frequent 
to  admit  of  musical  knowledge  being  made  a  requirement ;  I 
would  ash  for  it,  in  Mr.  Acland's  sense  ;  but  the  drawing 
might,  I  think,  be  required,  as  arithmetic  would  be. 

1  Giotto  passed  tho  first  ten  years  of  his  life,  a  shepherd-boy.  among 
these  hills  (of  Fie  sole)  ;  was  found  by  Ciiuabue,  near  his  native  village, 
drawing  one  of  his  sheep  upon  a  smooth  stone  ;  was  yielded  up  by  his 
father,  (  a  simplu  person,  a  laborer  of  the  earth,'  to  the  guardianship  of 
the  painter,  who,  by  his  own  work,  had  already  made  the  streets  of 
Florence  ring  with  joy  ;  attended  him  to  Florence,  and  became  his  dis* 
(?iple.,? — Giotto  and  his  Works  in  Padua,  by  John  Ruskin,  1854-  p.  12. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


41 


2.  To  accomplish  the  second  object  is  the  main  difficulty. 
Touching  which  I  venture  positively  to  state : 

First.  That  sound  criticism  of  art  is  impossible  to  young 
men,  for  it  consists  principally,  and  in  a  far  more  exclusive 
sense  than  has  yet  been  felt,  in  the  recognition  of  the  facts 
represented  by  the  art.  A  great  artist  represents  many  and 
abstruse  facts  ;  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  judge  of  his  works, 
that  all  those  facts  should  be  experimentally  (not  by  hearsay) 
known  to  the  observer  ;  whose  recognition  of  them  consti- 
tutes his  approving  judgment.  A  young  man  cannot  know 
them. 

Criticism  of  art  by  young  men  must,  therefore,  consist 
either  in  the  more  or  less  apt  retailing  and  application  of  re- 
ceived opinions,  or  in  a  more  or  less  immediate  and  dextrous 
use  of  the  knowledge  they  already  possess,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
assert  of  given  works  of  art  that  they  are  true  up  to  a  certain 
point  ;  the  probability  being  then  that  they  are  true  farther 
than  the  young  man  sees. 

The  first  kind  of  criticism  is,  in  general,  useless,  if  not 
harmful ;  the  second  is  that  which  the  youths  will  employ 
who  are  capable  of  becoming  critics  in  after  years. 

Secondly.  All  criticism  of  art,  at  whatever  period  of  life, 
must  be  partial  ;  warped  more  or  less  by  the  feelings  of  the 
person  endeavoring  to  judge.  Certain  merits  of  art  (as  en- 
ergy, for  instance)  are  pleasant  only  to  certain  temperaments ; 
and  certain  tendencies  of  art  (as,  for  instance,  to  religious 
sentiment)  can  only  be  sympathized  with  by  one  order  of 
minds.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  conceive  of  any  mode  of 
examination  which  would  set  the  students  on  anything  like 
equitable  footing  in  such  respects  ;  but  their  sensibility  to  art 
may  be  generally  tested. 

Thirdly.  The  history  of  art,  or  the  study,  in  your  accurate 
words,  "about  the  subject,"  is  in  nowise  directly  connected 
with  the  studies  which  promote  or  detect  art-capacity  or  art- 
judgment.  It  is  quite  possible  to  acquire  the  most  extensive 
and  useful  knowledge  of  the  forms  of  art  existing  in  different 
ages,  and  among  different  nations,  without  thereby  acquiring 
any  power  whatsoever  of  determining  respecting  any  of  them 


42 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  GRACE. 


(much  less  respecting  a  modern  work  of  art)  whether  it  is  good 
or  bad. 

These  three  facts  being  so,  we  had  perhaps  best  consider, 
first,  what  direction  the  art  studies  of  the  youth  should  take, 
as  that  will  at  once  regulate  the  mode  of  examination. 

First.  He  should  be  encouraged  to  carry  forward  the  prac- 
tical power  of  drawing  he  has  acquired  in  the  elementary 
school.  This  should  be  done  chiefly  by  using  that  power  as  a 
help  in  other  work  :  precision  of  touch  should  be  cultivated 
by  map-drawing  in  his  geography  class  ;  taste  in  form  by  flower- 
drawing  in  the  botanical  schools  ;  and  bone  and  limb  drawing 
in  the  physiological  schools.  His  art,  kept  thus  to  practical 
service,  will  always  be  right  as  far  as  it  goes  ;  there  will  be  no 
affectation  or  shallowness  in  it.  The  work  of  the  drawing-mas- 
ter would  be  at  first  little  more  than  the  exhibition  of  the 
best  means  and  enforcement  of  the  most  perfect  results  in  the 
collateral  studies  of  form. 

Secondly.  His  critical  power  should  be  developed  by  the 
presence  around  him  of  the  best  models,  into  the  excellence  of 
which  his  knowledge  permits  him  to  enter.  He  should  be  en- 
couraged, above  all  things,  to  form  and  express  judgment  of 
his  own  ;  not  as  if  his  judgment  were  of  any  importance  as 
related  to  the  excellence  of  the  thing,  but  that  both  his  master 
and  he  may  know  precisely  in  what  state  his  mind  is.  He 
should  be  told  of  an  Albert  Diirer  engraving,  "  That  is  good, 
whether  you  like  it  or  not ;  but  be  sure  to  determine  whether 
you  do  or  do  not,  and  why."  All  formal  expressions  of  reasons 
for  opinion,  such  as  a  boy  could  catch  up  and  repeat,  should 
be  withheld  like  poison  ;  and  all  models  which  are  too  good 
for  him  should  be  kept  out  of  his  way.  Contemplation  of 
works  of  art  without  understanding  them  jades  the  faculties  and 
enslaves  the  intelligence.  A  Eembrandt  etching  is  a  better 
example  to  a  boy  than  a  finished  Titian,  and  a  cast  from  a  leaf 
than  one  of  the  Elgin  marbles. 

Thirdly.  I  would  no  more  involve  the  art-schools  in  the 
study  of  the  history  of  art  than  surgical  schools  in  that  of  the 
history  of  surgery.  But  a  general  idea  of  the  influence  of  art 
on  the  human  mind  ought  to  be  given  by  the  study  of  historv 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


43 


in  the  historical  schools  ;  the  effect  of  a  picture,  and  power  of 
a  painter,  being  examined  just  as  carefully  (in  relation  to  its 
extent)  as  the  effect  of  a  battle  and  the  power  of  a  general. 
History,  in  its  full  sense,  involves  subordinate  knowledge  of 
all  that  influences  the  acts  of  mankind  ;  it  has  hardly  yet  been 
written  at  all,  owing  to  the  want  of  such  subordinate  knowl- 
edge in  the  historians  ;  it  has  been  confined  either  to  the  re- 
lation of  events  by  eye-witnesses  (the  only  valuable  form  of  it), 
or  the  more  or  less  ingenious  collation  of  such  relations.  And 
it  is  especially  desirable  to  give  history  a  more  archaeological 
range  at  this  period,  so  that  the  class  of  manufactures  pro- 
duced by  a  city  at  a  given  date  should  be  made  of  more  im- 
portance in  the  student's  mind  than  the  humors  of  the  factions 
that  governed,  or  details  of  the  accidents  that  preserved  it, 
because  every  day  renders  the  destruction  of  historical  memo- 
rials more  complete  in  Europe  owing  to  the  total  want  of  in- 
terest in  them  felt  by  its  upper  and  middle  classes. 

Fourthly.  Where  the  faculty  for  art  was  special,  it  ought  to 
be  carried  forward  to  the  study  of  design,  first  in  practical 
application  to  manufacture,  then  in  higher  branches  of  com- 
position. The  general  principles  of  the  application  of  art  to 
manufacture  should  be  explained  in  all  cases,  whether  of  spe- 
cial or  limited  faculty.  Under  this  head  we  may  at  once  get 
rid  of  the  third  question  stated  in  the  first  page — how  to  de- 
tect special  gift.  The  power  of  drawing  from  a  given  form 
accurately  would  not  be  enough  to  prove  this  :  the  additional 
power  of  design,  with  that  of  eye  for  color,  which  could  be 
tested  in  the  class  concerned  with  manufacture,  would  justify 
the  master  in  advising  and  encouraging  the  youth  to  under- 
take special  pursuit  of  art  as  an  object  of  life. 

It  seems  easy,  on  the  supposition  of  such  a  course  of  study, 
to  conceive  a  mode  of  examination  which  would  test  relative 
excellence.  I  cannot  suggest  the  kind  of  questions  which 
ought  to  be  put  to  the  class  occupied  with  sculpture  ;  but  in 
my  own  business  of  painting,  I  should  put,  in  general,  such 
tasks  and  questions  as  these  : 

(1)  "  Sketch  such  and  such  an  object "  (given  a  difficult 
one,  as  a  bird,  complicated  piece  of  drapery,  or  foliage) 


44 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


"as  completely  as  you  can  in  light  and  shade  in  half  an 
hour." 

(2)  "  Finish  such  and  such  a  portion  of  it "  (given  a  very 
small  portion)  "  as  perfectly  as  you  can,  irrespective  of  time." 

(3)  "  Sketch  it  in  color  in  half  an  hour." 

(4)  "  Design  an  ornament  for  a  given  place  and  purpose.'1 

(5)  "Sketch  a  picture  of  a  given  historical  event  in  pen  and 
ink." 

(6)  "Sketch  it  in  colors." 

(7)  "  Name  the  picture  you  were  most  interested  in  in  the 
Royal  Academy  Exhibition  of  this  year.  State  in  writing  what 
you  suppose  to  be  its  principal  merits — faults — the  reasons  of 
the  interest  you  took  in  it." 

I  think  it  is  only  the  fourth  of  these  questions  which  would 
admit  of  much  change ;  and  the  seventh  in  the  name  of  the 
exhibition  ;  the  question  being  asked,  without  previous  knowl- 
edge by  the  students,  respecting  some  one  of  four  or  five  given 
exhibitions  which  should  be  visited  before  the  examination. 

This  being  my  general  notion  of  what  an  Art-Examination 
should  be,  the  second  great  question  remains  of  the  division 
of  schools  and  connection  of  studies. 

Now  I  have  not  yet  considered — I  have  not,  indeed,  knowl- 
edge enough  to  enable  me  to  consider — what  the  practical 
convenience  or  results  of  given  arrangements  would  be.  But 
the  logical  and  harmonious  arrangement  is  surely  a  simple  one  ; 
and  it  seems  to  me  as  if  it  would  not  be  inconvenient,  name- 
ly (requiring  elementary  drawing  with  arithmetic  in  the  pre- 
liminary Examination),  that  there  should  then  be  three  ad- 
vanced schools  : 

a.  The  School  of  Literature  (occupied  chiefly  in  the  study 

of  human  emotion  and  history). 

b.  The  School  of  Science  (occupied  chiefly  in  the  study  of 

external  facts  and  existences  of  constant  kind). 

c.  The  School  of  Art  (occupied  in  the  development  of 

active  and  productive  human  faculties). 

In  the  school  a,  I  would  include  Composition  in  all  lan* 
guages,  Poetry,  History,  Archaeology,  Ethics. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


45 


In  the  school  b,  Mathematics,  Political  Economy,  the  Physi- 
cal Sciences  (including  Geography  and  Medicine). 

In  the  school  c,  Painting,  Sculpture,  including  Architecture, 
Agriculture,  Manufacture,  W ar,  Music,  Bodily  Exercises  (Nav- 
igation in  seaport  schools,)  including  laws  of  health. 

I  should  require,  for  a  first  class,  proficiency  in  two  schools  ; 
not,  of  course,  in  all  the  subjects  of  each  chosen  school,  but 
in  a  well  chosen  and  combined  group  of  them.  Thus,  I  should 
call  a  very  good  first-class  man  one  who  had  got  some  such 
range  of  subjects,  and  such  proficiency  in  each,  as  this  : 

English,  Greek,  and  Mediaeval-Italian  Literature   cHigli. 

English  and  French  History,  and  Archaeology  Average. 

Conic  Sections  ,  Thorough,  as  far  as  learnt, 

Political  Economy  Thorough,  as  far  as  learnt. 

Botany,  or  Chemistry,  or  Physiology  High. 

Painting  Average. 

Music.  Average. 

Bodily  Exercises  High. 

I  have  written  you  a  sadly  long  letter,  but  I  could  not  man- 
age to  get  it  shorter. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir, 

Very  faithfully  and  respectfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Rev.  F.  Temple. 

Perhaps  I  had  better  add  what  to  you,  but  not  to  every  one 
who  considers  such  a  scheme  of  education,  would  be  palpable 
— that  the  main  value  of  it  would  be  brought  out  by  judicious 
involution  of  its  studies.  This,  for  instance,  would  be  the 
kind  of  Examination  Paper  I  should  hope  for  in  the  Botanical 
Class  : 

1.  State  the  habit  of  such  and  such  a  plant. 

2.  Sketch  its  leaf,  and  a  portion  of  its  ramifications 
(memory). 

3.  Explain  the  mathematical  laws  of  its  growth  and  struct- 
ure. 

4.  Give  the  composition  of  its  juices  in  different  seasons. 

5.  Its  uses?  Its  relations  to  other  families  of  plants,  and 
conceivable  uses  beyond  those  known  ? 


40 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


G.  Its  commercial  value  in  London  ?    Mode  of  cultivation  ? 

7.  Its  mythological  meaning  ?  The  commonest  or  most 
beautiful  fables  respecting  it  ? 

8.  Quote  any  important  references  to  it  by  great  poets' 

9.  Time  of  its  introduction. 

10.  Describe  its  consequent  influence  on  civilization. 

Of  all  these  ten  questions,  there  is  not  one  which  does  not 
test  the  student  in  other  studies  than  botany.  Thus,  1,  Geog- 
raphy ;  2,  Drawing  ;  3,  Mathematics  ;  4,  5,  Chemistry ;  6, 
Political  Economy  ;  7,  8,  9,  10,  Literature. 

Of  course  the  plants  required  to  be  thus  studied  could  be 
but  few,  and  would  rationally  be  chosen  from  the  most  useful 
of  foreign  plants,  and  those  common  and  indigenous  in  Eng- 
land. All  sciences  should,  I  think,  be  taught  more  for  the 
sake  of  their  facts,  and  less  for  that  of  their  system,  than  here- 
tofore. Comprehensive  and  connected  views  are  impossible  to 
most  men  ;  the  systems  they  learn  are  nothing  but  skeletons 
to  them  ;  but  nearly  all  men  can  understand  the  relations  of  a 
few  facts  bearing  on  daily  business,  and  to  be  exemplified  in 
common  substances.  And  science  will  soon  be  so  vast  that  the 
most  comprehensive  men  will  still  be  narrow,  and  we  shall  see 
the  fitness  of  rather  teaching  our  youth  to  concentrate  their 
general  intelligence  highly  on  given  points  than  scatter  it 
towards  an  infinite  horizon  from  which  they  can  fetch  nothing, 
and  to  which  they  can  carry  nothing. 


[From  "Nature  and  Art,"  December  1,  1S66.] 

ART-TEACHING  BY  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Dear  Mr.  Williams  : 1  I  like  your  plan  of  teaching  by  letter 
exceedingly  :  and  not  only  so,  but  have  myself  adopted  it 
largely,  with  the  help  of  an  intelligent  under-master,  whose 
operations,  however,  so  far  from  interfering  with,  you  will 

1  This  letter  was,  it  appears,  originally  addressed  to  an  artist,  Mr. 
Williams  (of  Southampton),  and  was  then  printed,  some  years  later,  in 
the  number  of  Nature  and  Art  above  referred  to. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


47 


much  facilitate,  if  you  can  bring  this  literary  way  of  teaching 
into  more  accepted  practice.  I  wish  we  had  more  drawing- 
masters  who  were  able  to  give  instruction  definite  enough  to 
be  expressed  in  writing :  many  can  teach  nothing  but  a  few 
tricks  of  the  brush,  and  have  nothing  to  write,  because  noth- 
ing to  tell. 

With  every  wish  for  your  success, — a  wish  which  I  make 
quite  as  much  in  your  pupils'  interest  as  in  your  own, — 
Believe  me,  always  faithfully  yours, 

J.  RlJSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  November,  1860. 


II. — PUBLIC  INSTITUTIONS  AND  THE  NATIONAL 
GALLERY. 

[From  "  The  Times,"  January  7,  1847.] 

DANGER  TO  THE  NATIONAL  GALLERY.' 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times." 

Sir  :  As  I  am  sincerely  desirous  that  a  stop  may  be  put  to 
the  dangerous  process  of  cleaning  lately  begun  in  our  National 
Gallery,  and  as  I  believe  that  what  is  right  is  most  effectively 
when  most  kindly  advocated,  and  what  is  true  most  convinc- 

1  Some  words  are  necessary  to  explain  this  and  the  following  letter.  In 
the  antumn  of  1846  a  correspondence  was  opened  in  the  columns  of  The 
Times  on  the  subject  of  the  cleaning  and  restoration  of  the  national  pict- 
ures during  the  previous  vacation.  Mr.  (afterwards  Sir  Charles)  East- 
lake  was  at  this  time  Keeper  of  the  Gallery,  though  he  resigned  office 
soon  after  this  letter  was  written,  partly  in  consequence  of  the  attacks 
which  had  been  made  upon  him.  He  was  blamed,  not  only  for  restor- 
ing good  pictures,  but  also  for  buying  bad  oues,  and  in  particular  the 
purchase  of  a  1  'libel  on  Holbein"  was  quoted  against  him.  The  attack 
was  led  by  the  picture-dealer,  and  at  one  time  artist,  Mr.  Morris  Moore, 
writing  at  first  under  the  pseudonym  of  "  Verax,"  and  afterwards  in  his 
own  name.  He  continued  his  opposition  through  several  years,  espe- 
cially during  1850  and  1852.  He  also  published  some  pamphlets  on  the 
subject,  amongst  them  one  entitled  "  The  Revival  of  Vandalism  at  the 
National  Gallery,  a  reply  to  John  Ruskin  and  others "  (London,  Olli- 
vier,  1853).  The  whole  discussion  may  be  gathered  in  all  its  details 
from  the  Parliamentary  Report  of  the  Select  Committee  on  the  National 
Gallery  in  1853. 


48 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  C II ACE. 


ingly  when  least  passionately  asserted,  I  was  grieved  to  sea 
the  violent  attack  upon  Mr.  Eastlake  in  your  columns  of  Fri- 
day last ;  yet  not  less  surprised  at  the  attempted  defence 
which  appeared  in  them  yesterday.1  The  outcry  which  has 
arisen  upon  this  subject  has  been  just,  but  it  has  been  too 
loud  ;  the  injury  done  is  neither  so  great  nor  so  wilful  as  has 
been  asserted,  and  I  fear  that  the  respect  which  might  have 
been  paid  to  remonstrance  may  be  refused  to  clamor. 

I  was  inclined  at  first  to  join  as  loudly  as  any  in  the  hue 
and  cry.  Accustomed,  as  I  have  been,  to  look  to  England  as 
the  refuge  of  the  pictorial  as  of  all  other  distress,  and  to  hope 
that,  having  no  high  art  of  her  own,  she  would  at  least  pro- 
tect what  she  could  not  produce,  and  respect  what  she  could 
not  restore,  1  could  not  but  look  upon  the  attack  which  has 
been  made  upon  the  pictures  in  question  as  on  the  violation 
of  a  sanctuary.  I  had  seen  in  Venice  the  noblest  works  of 
Veronese  painted  over  with  flake-white  with  a  brush  fit  for 
tarring  ships  ;  I  had  seen  in  Florence  Angelico's  highest  in- 
spiration rotted  and  seared  into  fragments  of  old  wood,  burn  fc 
into  blisters,  or  blotted  into  glutinous  maps  of  mildew ; 2  I 
had  seen  in  Paris  Raphael  restored  by  David  and  Vernet  ;  and 
I  returned  to  England  in  the  one  last  trust  that,  though  her 
National  Gallery  was  an  European  jest,  her  art  a  shadow,  and 
her  connoisseurship  an  hypocrisy,  though  she  neither  knew 
how  to  cherish  nor  how  to  choose,  and  lay  exposed  to  the 
cheats  of  every  vender  of  old  canvas — yet  that  such  good  pict- 
ures as  through  chance  or  oversight  might  find  their  wTay  be- 
neath that  preposterous  portico,  and  into  those  melancholy 
and  miserable  rooms,  were  at  least  to  be  vindicated  thence- 
forward from  the  mercy  of  publican,  priest,  or  painter,  safe 
alike  from  musketry,  monkery,  and  manipulation. 


1  The  u  violent  attack  "  alludes  to  a  letter  of  u  Verax  "  in  The  Times 
of  Thursday  (not  Friday),  December  31,  1846,  and  the  "  attempted  de- 
fence" to  another  letter  signed  "A.  G."  in  The  Times  of  January  4, 
two  days  (not  the  day)  before  Mr.  Ruskin  wrote  the  present  letter. 

2  The  Crucifixion,  or  Adoration  of  the  Cross,  in  the  church  of  San 
Marco.  An  engraving  of  this  picture  may  be  found  in  Mrs.  Jameson's 
History  of  our  Lord,  vol.  i.  p.  189. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


49 


But  whatever  pain  I  may  feel  at  the  dissipation  of  this 
dream,  I  am  not  disposed  altogether  to  deny  the  necessity  of 
some  illuminatory  process  with  respect  to  pictures  exposed  to 
a  London  atmosphere  and  populace.  Dust  an  inch  thick,  ac- 
cumulated upon  the  panes  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  dark- 
ness closing  over  the  canvas  like  a  curtain,  attest  too  forcibly 
the  influence  on  floor  and  air  of  the  ' '  mutable,  rank-scented, 
many. "  It  is  of  little  use  to  be  over-anxious  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  pictures  which  we  cannot  see  ;  the  only  question  is, 
whether  in  the  present  instance  the  process  may  not  have 
been  carried  perilously  far,  and  whether  in  future  simpler  and 
safer  means  may  not  be  adopted  to  remove  the  coat  of  dust 
and  smoke,  without  affecting  either  the  glazing  of  the  picture, 
or  what  is  almost  as  precious,  the  mellow  tone  left  by  time. 

As  regards  the  "  Peace  and  War,"  1  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
asserting  that  for  the  present  it  is  utterly  and  forever  par- 
tially destroyed.  I  am  not  disposed  lightly  to  impugn  the  judg- 
ment of  Mr.  Eastlake,  but  this  was  indisputably  of  all  the 
pictures  in  the  Gallery  that  which  least  required,  and  least 
could  endure  the  process  of  cleaning.  It  was  in  the  most  ad- 
vantageous condition  under  which  a  work  of  Eubens  can  be 
seen  ;  mellowed  by  time  into  more  perfect  harmony  than  when 
it  left  the  easel,  enriched  and  warmed,  without  losing  any  of 
its  freshness  or  energy.  The  execution  of  the  master  is  always 
so  bold  and  frank  as  to  be  completely,  perhaps  even  most 
agreeably,  seen  under  circumstances  of  obscurity,  which  would 
be  injurious  to  pictures  of  greater  refinement ;  and,  though 
this  was,  indeed,  one  of  his  most  highly  finished  and  careful 
works  (to  my  mind,  before  it  suffered  this  recent  injury,  far 
superior  to  everything  at  Antwerp,  Marines,  or  Cologne),  this 
was  a  more  weighty  reason  for  caution  than  for  interference. 
Some  portions  of  color  have  been  exhibited  which  were  for- 
merly untraceable;  but  even  these  have  lost  in  power  what 
they  have  gained  in  definiteness — the  majesty  and  precious- 
ness  of  ail  the  tones  are  departed,  the  balance  of  distances  lost. 
Time  may  perhaps  restore  something  of  the  glow,  but  never 


1  No.  46  in  the  National  Gallery. 


50 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAOE. 


the  subordination  ;  and  the  more  delicate  portions  of  flesh 
tint,  especially  the  back  of  the  female  figure  on  the  left,  and 
of  the  boy  in  the  centre,  are  destroyed  forever. 

The  large  Cuyp  1  is,  I  think,  nearly  uninjured.  Many  por- 
tions of  the  foreground  painting  have  been  revealed,  which 
were  before  only  to  be  traced  painfully,  if  at  all.  The  dis- 
tance has  indeed  lost  the  appearance  of  sunny  haze,  which 
was  its  chief  charm,  but  this  I  have  little  doubt  it  originally 
did  not  possess,  and  in  process  of  time  may  recover. 

The  "Bacchus  and  Ariadne"2  of  Titian  has  escaped  so  scot 
free  that,  not  knowing  it  had  been  cleaned,  I  passed  it  with- 
out noticing  any  change.  I  observed  only  that  the  blue  of 
the  distance  was  more  intense  than  I  had  previously  thought 
it,  though,  four  years  ago,  I  said  of  that  distance  that  it  was 
"  difficult  to  imagine  anything  more  magnificently  impossible, 
not  from  its  vividness,  but  because  it  is  not  faint  and  aerial 
enough  to  account  for  its  purity  of  color.  There  is  so  total  a 
want  of  atmosphere  in  it,  that  but  for  the  difference  of  form 
it  would  be  impossible  to  distinguish  the  mountains  from  the 
robe  of  Ariadne."  * 

Your  correspondent  is  alike  unacquainted  with  the  previous 
condition  of  this  picture,  and  with  the  character  of  Titian  dis- 
tances in  general,  when  he  complains  of  a  loss  of  aerial  quality 
resulting  in  the  present  case  from  cleaning. 

I  unfortunately  did  not  see  the  new  Velasquez  3  until  it  had 
undergone  its  discipline  ;  but  I  have  seldom  met  with  an  ex- 
ample of  the  master  which  gave  me  more  delight,  or  which  I 
believe  to  be  in  more  genuine  or  perfect  condition.    I  saw  no 


1  Landscape,  with  Cattle  and  Figures— Evening  (No.  53).  Since  the 
bequest  of  the  somewhat  higher  "  large  Dort"  in  1876  (No.  961),  it  has 
ceased  to  be  "the  large  (^nyp." 

2  No.  35  in  the  National  Gallery.  This  and  the  two  pictures  already 
mentioned  were  the  typical  instances  of  "  spoilt  pictures,"  quoted  by 
"  Verax." 

3  Philip  IV.  of  Spain,  hunting  the  Wild  Boar  (No.  197),  purchased 
in  1846. 


*  Modern  Painters,  vol.  i. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


51 


traces  of  the  retouching  which  is  hinted  at  by  your  corre- 
spondent "Verax,"  nor  are  the  touches  on  that  canvas  such  as 
to  admit  of  very  easy  or  untraceable  interpolation  of  meaner 
handling.  His  complaint  of  loss  of  substance  in  the  figures  of 
the  foreground  is,  I  have  no  doubt,  altogether  groundless.  He 
has  seen  little  southern  scenery  if  he  supposes  that  the  brill- 
iancy and  apparent  nearness  of  the  silver  clouds  is  in  the 
slightest  degree  overcharged ;  and  shows  little  appreciation  of 
Velasquez  in  supposing  him  to  have  sacrificed  the  solemnity 
and  might  of  such  a  distance  to  the  inferior  interest  of  the 
figures  in  the  foreground.  Had  he  studied  the  picture  atten- 
tively, he  might  have  observed  that  the  position  of  the  horizon 
suggests,  and  the  lateral  extent  of  the  foreground  proves,  such 
a  distance  between  the  spectator  and  even  its  nearest  figures 
as  may  well  justify  the  slightness  of  their  execution. 

Even  granting  that  some  of  the  upper  glazings  of  the  figures 
had  been  removed,  the  tone  of  the  whole  picture  is  so  light, 
gray,  and  glittering,  and  the  dependence  on  the  power  of  its 
whites  so  absolute,  that  I  think  the  process  hardly  to  be  re- 
gretted which  has  left  these  in  lustre  so  precious,  and  restored 
to  a  brilliancy  which  a  comparison  with  any  modern  work  of 
of  similar  aim  would  render  apparently  supernatural,  the 
sparkling  motion  of  its  figures  and  the  serene  snow  of  its  sky. 

I  believe  I  have  stated  to  its  fullest  extent  all  the  harm  that 
has  }'et  been  done,  yet  I  earnestly  protest  against  any  con- 
tinuance of  the  treatment  to  which  these  pictures  have  been 
subjected.  It  is  useless  to  allege  that  nothing  but  discolored 
varnish  has  been  withdrawn,  for  it  is  perfectly  possible  to 
alter  the  structure  and  continuity,  and  so  destroy  the  aerial 
relations  of  colors  of  which  no  part  has  been  removed.  I  have 
seen  the  dark  blue  of  a  water-color  drawing  made  opaque  and 
pale  merely  by  mounting  it ;  and  even  supposing  no  other  in- 
jury were  done,  every  time  a  picture  is  cleaned  it  loses,  like 
a  restored  building,  part  of  its  authority  ;  and  is  thenceforward 
liable  to  dispute  and  suspicion,  every  one  of  its  beauties  open 
to  question,  while  its  faults  are  screened  from  accusation.  It 
cannot  be  any  more  reasoned  from  with  security  ;  for,  though 
allowance  may  be  made  for  the  effect  of  time,  no  one  can  cal- 


52 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


culate  the  arbitrary  and  accidental  changes  occasioned  by 
violent  cleaning.  None  of  the  varnishes  should  be  attacked  ; 
whatever  the  medium  used,  nothing  but  soot  and  dust  should 
be  taken  away,  and  that  chiefly  by  delicate  and  patient  fric- 
tion ;  and,  in  order  to  protract  as  long  as  possible  the  neces- 
sity even  for  this  all  the  important  pictures  in  the  gallery 
should  at  once  be  put  under  glass,1  and  closed,  not  merely 
by  hinged  doors,  like  the  Correggio,  but  permanently  and 
securely.  I  should  be  glad  to  see  this  done  in  all  rich  gal- 
leries, but  it  is  peculiarly  necessary  in  the  case  of  pictures 
exposed  in  London,  and  to  a  crowd  freely  admitted  four  days 
in  the  week  :  it  would  do  good  also  by  necessitating  the  en- 
largement of  the  rooms,  and  the  bringing  down  of  all  the 
pictures  to  the  level  of  the  eye.  Every  picture  that  is  worth 
buying  or  retaining  is  worth  exhibiting  in  its  proper  place, 
and  if  its  scale  be  large,  and  its  handling  rough,  there  is  the 
more  instruction  to  be  gained  by  close  study  of  the  various 
means  adopted  by  the  master  to  secure  his  distant  effect.  We 
can  certainly  spare  both  the  ground  and  the  funds  which 
would  enable  us  to  exhibit  pictures  for  which  no  price  is 
thought  too  large,  and  for  all  purposes  of  study  and  for  most 
of  enjoyment  pictures  are  useless  when  they  are  even  a  little 
above  the  line.  The  fatigue  complained  of  by  most  persons 
in  examining  a  picture  gallery  is  attributable,  not  only  to  the 
number  of  works,  but  to  their  confused  order  of  succession, 
and  to  the  straining  of  the  sight  in  endeavoring  to  penetrate 
the  details  of  those  above  the  eye.  Every  gallery  should  be 
long  enough  to  admit  of  its  whole  collection  being  hung  in 
one  line,  side  by  side,  and  wide  enough  to  allow  of  the  specta- 


1  On  this  and  other  collateral  subjects  the  reader  is  referred  to  the 
next  letter  ;  to  Mr.  Ruskin  s  evidence  before  the  National  Gallery  Com- 
mission  in  1857  ;  and  to  the  Appendix  to  his  Notes  on  the  Turner  Gallery 
at  Marlborough  House,  185G-7.  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  state  that  a 
very  large  number  of  the  national  pictures,  especially  the  Turners,  are 
now  preserved  under  glass.  Of  the  other  strictures  here  pronounced, 
some  are  no  longer  deserved  ;  and  it  may  well  be  remembered  that  at 
the  time  this  letter  was  written  the  National  Gallery  had  been  founded 
less  than  five-and-twenty  years. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


53 


tors  retiring  to  the  distance  at  which  the  largest  picture  was 
intended  to  be  seen.  The  works  of  every  master  should  be 
brought  together  and  arranged  in  chronological  order  ;  and 
such  drawings  or  engravings  as  may  exist  in  the  collection, 
either  of,  or  for,  its  pictures,  or  in  any  way  illustrative  of 
them,  should  be  placed  in  frames  opposite  each,  in  the  middle 
of  the  room. 

But,  Sir,  the  subjects  of  regret  connected  with  the  present 
management  of  our  national  collection  are  not  to  be  limited 
either  to  its  treatment  or  its  arrangement.  The  principles  of 
selection  which  have  been  acted  upon  in  the  course  of  the  last 
five  or  six  years  have  been  as  extraordinary  as  unjustifiable. 
Whatever  may  be  the  intrinsic  power,  interest,  or  artistical 
ability  of  the  earlier  essays  of  any  school  of  art,  it  cannot  be 
disputed  that  characteristic  examples  of  every  one  of  its  most 
important  phases  should  form  part  of  a  national  collection  : 
granting  them  of  little  value  individually,  their  collective 
teaching  is  of  irrefragable  authority  ;  and  the  exhibition  of 
perfected  results  alone,  while  the  course  of  national  progress 
through  which  these  were  reached  is  altogether  concealed,  is 
more  likely  to  discourage  than  to  assist  the  efforts  of  an  unde- 
veloped school.  Granting  even  what  the  shallowest  material- 
ism of  modern  artists  would  assume,  that  the  works  of  Perugino 
were  of  no  value,  but  as  they  taught  Kaphael  ;  that  John 
Bellini  is  altogether  absorbed  and  overmastered  by  Titian  ; 
that  Nino  Pisano  was  utterly  superseded  by  Bandinelli  or 
Cellini,  and  Ghirlandajo  sunk  in  the  shadow  of  Buonaroti : 
granting  Van  Eyck  to  be  a  mere  mechanist,  and  Giotto  a  mere 
child,  and  Angelico  a  superstitious  monk,  and  whatever  you 
choose  to  grant  that  ever  blindness  deemed  or  insolence 
affirmed,  still  it  is  to  be  maintained  and  proved,  that  if  we  wish 
to  have  a  Buonaroti  or  a  Titian  of  our  own,  we  shall  with  more 
wisdom  learn  of  those  of  whom  Buonaroti  and  Titian  learned, 
and  at  whose  knees  they  were  brought  up,  and  whom  to  the  day 
of  their  death  they  ever  revered  and  worshipped,  than  of  those 
wretched  pupils  and  partisans  who  sank  every  high  function  of 
art  into  a  form  and  a  faction,  betrayed  her  trusts,  darkened  her 
traditions,  overthrew  her  throne,  and  left  us  where  we  now  are, 


54 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  AGE. 


stumbling  among  its  fragments.  Sir,  if  the  canvases  of 
Guido,  lately  introduced  into  the  gallery,1  had  been  works 
of  the  best  of  those  pupils,  which  they  are  not ;  if  they  had 
been  good  works  of  even  that  bad  master,  which  they  are  not ; 
if  they  had  been  genuine  and  untouched  works,  even  though 
feeble,  which  they  are  not ;  if,  though  false  and  retouched 
remnants  of  a  feeble  and  fallen  school,  they  had  been  endura- 
bly  decent  or  elementarily  instructive — some  conceivable  excuse 
might  perhaps  have  been  by  ingenuity  forged,  and  by  impu- 
dence uttered,  for  their  introduction  into  a  gallery  where  we 
previously  possessed  two  good  Guidos,2  and  no  Perugino  (for 
the  attribution  to  him  of  the  wretched  panel  which  now  bears 
his  name  is  a  mere  insult),  no  Angelico,  no  Fra  Bartolomeo, 
no  Albertinelli,  no  Ghirlandajo,  no  Verrochio,  no  Lorenzo  di 
Credi — (what  shall  I  more  say,  for  the  time  would  fail  me  ?) 
But  now,  Sir,  what  vestige  of  apology  remains  for  the  cum- 
bering our  walls  with  pictures  that  have  no  single  virtue,  no 
color,  no  drawing,  no  character,  no  history,  no  thought  ?  Yet 
2,000  guineas  were,  I  believe,  given  for  one  of  those  encum- 
brances, and  5,000  for  the  coarse  and  unnecessary  Bubens,3 
added  to  a  room  half  filled  with  Bubens  before,  while  a  mighty 
and  perfect  work  of  Angelico  was  sold  from  Cardinal  Fesch's 

1  Lot  and  his  Daughters  Leaving  Sodom  (No.  193),  bequeathed  to  the 
gallery  in  1844 ;  and  Susannah  and  the  Elders  (No.  19G),  purchase^  in 
the  same  year. 

2  The  "two  good  Guidos"  previously  possessed  are  the  St.  Jerome 
(No.  11)  and  the  Magdalen  (No.  177).  The  "  wretched  panel  "  is  No. 
181,  The  Virgin  and  Infant  Christ  with  St.  John.  For  the  rest,  the  gal- 
lery now  includes  two  other  Peruginos,  The  Virgin  adoring  the  Infant 
Christ,  the  Archangel  Michael,  the  Archangel  Raphael  and  Tobias  (No, 
288),  three  panels,  purchased  in  1856,  and  the  very  recent  (1879)  pur- 
chase of  the  Virgin  and  Child  with  St.  Jerome  and  St.  Francis  (No.  1075). 
It  boasts  also  of  two  Angelicos— The  Adoration  of  the  Magi  (No.  582)  and 
Christ  amid  the  Blessed  (No.  663),  purchased  in  1857  and  1860 ;  one 
Albertinelli,  Virgin  and  Child  (No.  645),  also  purchased  in  1860  ;  and  two 
Lorenzo  di  Credis,  both  of  the  Virgin  and  Child  (Nos.  593  and  648),  pur- 
chased in  J  857  and  1865.  But  it  still  possesses  no  Fra  Bartolomeo,  no 
Ghirlandajo,  and  no  Verrochio. 

•  The  Judgment  of  Paris  (No.  194),  purchased  from  Mr.  Penrice's 
collection  in  1846. 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


55 


collection  for  1,500. 1  I  do  not  speak  of  the  spurious  Holbein,8 
for  though  the  veriest  tyro  might  well  be  ashamed  of  such  a 
purchase,  it  would  have  been  a  judicious  addition  had  it  been 
genuine  ;  so  was  the  John  Bellini,  so  was  the  Van  Eyck  ;  but 
the  mighty  Venetian  master,  who  alone  of  all  the  painters  of 
Italy  united  purity  of  religious  aim  with  perfection  of  artistical 
power,  is  poorly  represented  by  a  single  head  ; 3  and  I  ask,  in 
the  name  of  the  earnest  students  of  England,  that  the  funds 
set  apart  for  her  gallery  may  no  longer  be  played  with  like 
pebbles  in  London  auction-rooms.  Let  agents  be  sent  to  all 
the  cities  of  Italy  ;  let  the  noble  pictures  which  are  perishing 
there  be  rescued  from  the  invisibility  and  ill-treatment  which 
their  position  too  commonly  implies,  and  let  us  have  a  national 
collection  which,  however  imperfect,  shall  be  orderly  and  con- 
tinuous, and  shall  exhibit  with  something  like  relative  candor 
and  justice  the  claims  to  our  reverence  of  those  great  and 
ancient  builders,  whose  mighty  foundation  has  been  for  two 
centuries  concealed  by  wood,  and  hay,  and  stubble,  the  dis- 
torted growing,  and  thin  gleaning  of  vain  men  in  blasted  fields. 
I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  "Modern  Painters." 

January  6. 


1  The  Last  Judgment ;  its  purchaser  was  the  Earl  of  Dudley,  in  whose 
possession  the  picture,  now  hanging  at  Dudley  House  in  London,  lias 
ever  since  remained.  An  engraving  of  this  work  (pronounced  the  finest 
of  Angelico's  four  representations  of  this  subject),  may  be  found  in  Mrs. 
Jameson's  History  of  our  Lord,  vol.  ii.  p.  414.  Cardinal  Fesch  was 
Archbishop  of  Lyons,  and  the  uncle  of  Napoleon  Buonaparte.  His  gal- 
lery contained  in  its  time  the  finest  private  collection  of  pictures  in 
Rome. 

2  The  "  libel  on  Holbein''  was  bought  as  an  original,  from  Mr. 
Rochard,  in  1845.  It  now  figures  in -the  National  Gallery  as  A  Medical 
Professor — artist  unknown  (No.  195). 

3  The  Bellini  is  tho  portrait  of  Doge  Leonardo  Loredano  (No.  189), 
purchased  in  1844 :  four  more  examples  (Nos.  280,  726,  808,  812)  of 
the  same  u  mighty  Venetian  master"  have  since  been  introduced,  so 
that  he  is  no  longer  ''poorly  represented  by  a  single  head."  The  Van 
Eyck  is  the  Portrait  of  Jean  Arnolfini  and  his  Wife  (No.  186),  purchased 
in  1842. 


56 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


[From  "The  Times,'1  December  29,  1852.] 

THE  NATIONAL  GALLERY, 

To  the  Editor  of  11  The  Times.'1 

Sir  :  I  trust  that  the  excitement  which  has  been  caused  by 
the  alleged  destruction  of  some  of  the  most  important  pict- 
ures  in  the  National  Gallery  will  not  be  without  results, 
whatever  may  be  the  facts  in  the  case  with  respect  to  the 
works  in  question.  Under  the  name  of  4 £  restoration,"  the 
ruin  of  the  noblest  architecture  and  painting  is  constant 
throughout  Europe.  We  shall  show  ourselves  wTiser  than  our 
neighbors  if  the  loss  of  two  Claudes  and  the  injury  of  a  Paul 
Veronese  1  induce  us  to  pay  so  much  attention  to  the  preser- 
vation of  ancient  art  as  may  prevent  it  from  becoming  a  dis- 
j3uted  question  in  future  whether  they  are  indeed  pictures 
which  we  possess  or  their  skeletons. 

As  to  the  facts  in  the  present  instance,  I  can  give  no  opin- 
ion. Sir  Charles  Eastlake  and  Mr.  Uwins  2  know  more  than 
I  of  oil  paintings  in  general,  and  have  far  more  profound  re- 
spect for  those  of  Claude  in  particular.  I  do  not  suppose  they 
would  have  taken  from  him  his  golden  armor  that  Turner 
might  bear  away  a  dishonorable  victory  in  the  noble  passage 
of  arms  to  which  he  has  challenged  his  rival  from  the  grave.* 


1  Clp.ude's  Marriage  of  Isaac  and  Rebecca  (No  12\  and  his  Queen  of 
Sheba  picture  (No,  14,  Seaport,  with  figures).  The  only  pictures  of 
Veronese  which  the  Gallery  at  this  time  contained,  were  the  Consecra- 
tion of  St.  Nicholas  (No,  26),  and  the  Rape  of  Europa  (No.  97).  It  is 
the  former  of  these  two  that  is  here  spoken  of  as  injured  (see  the  Re- 
port of  the  National  Gallery  Committee  in  1853). 

2  Mr.  Thomas  Uwins,  R.A.,  had  succeeded  Sir  Charles  Eastlake  as 
Keeper  of  the  National  Gallery  in  1847  ;  and  resigned,  for  a  similar 
reason,  in  1855. 

*  The  public  may  not,  perhaps,  be  generally  aware  that  the 
condition  by  which  the  nation  retains  the  two  pictures  be- 
queathed to  it  by  Turner,  and  now  in  the  National  Gallery,  is 
that  "  they  shall  be  hung  beside  Claude's."  3 


3  Dido  building  Carthage  (No.  498),  and  The  Sun  rising  in  a  Mist  (No. 
479).    The  actual  wording  of  Turner's  will  on  the  matter  ran  thus  :  "J 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


57 


Nor  can  the  public  suppose  that  the  Curators  of  the  National 
Gallery  have  any  interest  in  destroying  the  works  with  which 
they  are  intrusted.  If,  acting  to  the  best  of  their  judgment, 
they  have  done  harm,  to  whom  are  we  to  look  for  greater 
prudence  or  better  success  ?  Are  the  public  prepared  to 
withdraw  their  confidence  from  Sir  C.  Eastlake  and  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Royal  Academy,  and  entrust  the  national  property 
to  Mr.  Morris  Moore,  or  to  any  of  the  artists  and  amateurs 
who  have  inflamed  the  sheets  of  The  Times  with  their  indigna- 
tion ?  Is  it  not  evident  that  the  only  security  which  the  na- 
tion can  possess  for  its  pictures  must  be  found  in  taking  such 
measures  as  may  in  future  prevent  the  necessity  of  their  being 
touched  at  all  ?  For  this  is  very  certain,  that  all  question 
respecting  the  effects  of  cleaning  is  merely  one  of  the  amount 
of  injury.  Every  picture  which  has  undergone  more  friction 
than  is  necessary  at  intervals  for  the  removal  of  dust  or  dirt, 
has  suffered  injury  to  some  extent.  The  last  touches  of  the 
master  leave  the  surface  of  the  color  with  a  certain  substan- 
tial texture,  the  bloom  of  wMeli,  if  once  reached  under  the 
varnish,  must  inevitably  be  more  or  less  removed  by  friction 
of  any  kind — how  much  more  by  friction  aided  by  solvents  ? 
I  am  well  assured  that  every  possessor  of  pictures  who  truly 
loves  them,  would  keep — if  it  might  be — their  surfaces  from 
being  so  much  as  breathed  upon,  which  may,  indeed,  be  done, 
and  done  easily. 

Every  stranger  who  enters  our  National  Gallery,  if  he  be  a 
thoughtful  person,  must  assuredly  put  to  himself  a  curious 
question.  Perceiving  that  certain  pictures — namely,  three 
Correggios,  two  Raphaels  and  a  John  Bellini — are  put  under 
glass,1  and  that  all  the  others  are  left  exposed,  as  oil  pictures 
are  in  general,  he  must  ask  himself,  "  Is  it  an  ascertained  fact 
that  glass  preserves  pictures  ;  and  are  none  of  the  pictures  here 


direct  that  the  said  pictures,  or  paintings,  shall  be  hung,  kept,  and 
placed,  that  is  to  say,  always  between  the  two  pictures  painted  by 
Claude,  the  Seaport  and  the  Mill."  Accordingly  they  now  hang  sido 
by  side  with  these  two  pictures  (Nos.  5  and  12)  in  the  National  Gallery. 
1  See  p.  52,  note. 


58 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAGR 


thought  worth  a  pane  of  glass  but  these  five  ?  Or  is  it  un« 
ascertained  whether  glass  is  beneficial  or  injurious,  and  have 
the  Raphaels  and  Correggios  been  selected  for  the  trial — '  Fiat 
experiment mn  in  corpore  vili  ? '  "  Some  years  ago  it  might 
have  been  difficult  to  answer  him  ;  now  the  answer  is  easy, 
though  it  be  strange.  The  experiment  has  been  made.  The 
Eaphaels  and  Correggios  have  been  under  glass  for  many 
years :  they  are  as  fresh  and  lovely  as  when  they  were  first 
enclosed  ;  they  need  no  cleaning,  and  will  need  none  for  half 
a  century  to  come  ;  and  it  must  be,  therefore,  that  the  rest  of 
the  pictures  are  left  exposed  to  the  London  atmosphere,  and 
to  the  operations  which  its  influence  renders  necessary, 
simply  because  they  are  not  thought  worth  a  pane  of  plate 
glass.  No  :  there  is  yet  one  other  possible  answer — that  many 
of  them  are  hung  so  high,  or  in  such  lights,  that  they  could 
not  be  seen  if  they  were  glazed.  Is  it  then  absolutely  neces- 
sary that  they  should  be  hung  so  high  ?  We  are  about  to  build 
a  new  National  Gallery  ;  may  it  not  be  so  arranged  as  that 
the  pictures  we  place  therein  may  at  once  be  safe  and  visible  ? 

I  know  that  this  has  never  yet  been  done  in  any  gallery  in 
Europe,  for  the  European  public  have  never  yet  reflected  that 
a  picture  which  was  worth  buying  was  also  worth  seeing. 
Some  time  or  other  they  will  assuredly  awake  to  the  percep- 
tion of  this  wonderful  truth,  and  it  would  be  some  credit  to 
our  English  common-sense  if  we  were  the  first  to  act  upon  it. 

I  say  that  a  picture  which  is  worth  buying  is  also  worth 
seeing  ;  that  is,  worth  so  much  room  of  ground  and  wall  as 
shall  enable  us  to  see  it  to  the  best  advantage.  It  is  not  com- 
monly so  understood.  Nations,  like  individuals,  buy  their 
pictures  in  mere  ostentation  ;  and  are  content,  so  that  their 
possessions  are  acknowledged  that  they  should  be  hung  in  any 
d  irk  or  out-of-the-way  corners  which  their  frames  will  fit. 
Or,  at  best,  the  popular  idea  of  a  national  gallery  is  that  of  a 
magnificent  palace,  whose  walls  must  be  decorated  with  col- 
ored panels,  every  one  of  which  shall  cost  £1,000,  and  be  dis< 
cernible,  through  a  telescope,  for  the  work  of  a  mighty  hand 


Query,  a  misprint  ?  as  s/s?  pictures  are  mentioned. 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


59 


I  have  no  doubt  that  in  a  few  years  more  there  will  be  a 
change  of  feeling  in  this  matter,  and  that  men  will  begin  to 
perceive,  what  is  indeed  the  truth — that  every  noble  picture  is 
a  manuscript  book,  of  which  only  one  copy  exists,  or  ever  can 
exist ;  that  a  national  gallery  is  a  great  library, 1  of  which  the 
books  must  be  read  upon  their  shelves  ;  that  every  manuscript 
ought,  therefore,  to  be  placed  where  it  can  be  read  most  easily  ; 
and  that  the  style  of  the  architecture  and  the  effect  of  the 
saloons  are  matters  of  no  importance  whatsoever,  but  that  our 
solicitude  ought  to  begin  and  end  in  the  two  imperative  re- 
quirements— that  every  picture  in  the  gallery  should  be  per- 
fectly seen  and  perfectly  safe  ;  that  none  should  be  thrust  up, 
or  down,  or  aside,  to  make  room  for  more  important  ones  ; 
that  all  should  be  in  a  good  light,  all  on  a  level  with  the  eye, 
and  all  secure  from  damp,  cold,  impurity  of  atmosphere,  and 
every  other  avoidable  cause  of  deterioration. 

These  are  the  things  to  be  accomplished  ;  and  if  we  set 
ourselves  to  do  these  in  our  new  National  Gallery,2  we  shall 
have  made  a  greater  step  in  art-teaching  than  if  we  had  built 
a  new  Parthenon.  I  know  that  it  will  be  a  strange  idea  to 
most  of  ns  that  Titians  and  Tintorets  ought,  indeed,  all  to 
have  places  upon  "  the  line,"  as  well  as  the  annual  productions 
of  our  Eoyal  Academicians ;  and  I  know  that  the  coup  cTceil 
of  the  Gallery  must  be  entirely  destroyed  by  such  an  arrange- 
ment. But  great  pictures  ought  not  to  be  subjects  of  "  coups 
cCceil"  In  the  last  arrangement  of  the  Louvre,  under  the  Re- 
public, all  the  noble  pictures  in  the  gallery  were  brought  into 

1  "The  Art  of  a  nation  is,  I think,  one  of  the  most  important  points 
of  its  history,  and  a  part  which,  if  once  destroyed,  no  history  will  ever 
supply  the  place  of  ;  and  the  first  idea  of  a  National  Gallery  is  that  it 
should  be  a  Library  of  Art,  in  which  the  rudest  efforts  are,  in  some 
cases,  hardly  less  important  than  the  noblest." — National  Gallery  Com- 
mission, 1857 :  Mr.  Ruskin's  evidence. 

2  It  was  at  this  time  proposed  to  remove  the  national  pictures  from 
Trafalgar  Square  to  some  new  building  to  be  erected  for  them  else- 
where. This  proposal  was,  however,  negatived  by  the  commission 
ultimately  appointed  (1857)  to  consider  the  matter,  and  to  some  extent 
rendered  unnecessary  by  the  enlargement  of  the  gallery,  decided  upou 
in  1866. 


60 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


one  room,  with  a  Napoleon-like  resolution  to  produce  effect 
by  concentration  of  force  ;  and,  indeed,  I  would  not  part  will- 
ingly with  the  memory  of  that  saloon,  whose  obscurest  shad- 
ows were  full  of  Correggio  ;  in  whose  out-of-the-way  angles 
one  forgot,  here  and  there,  a  Eaphael ;  and  in  which  the  best 
Tintoret  on  this  side  of  the  Alps  was  hung  sixty  feet  from  the 
ground  ! 1  But  Cleopatra  dissolving  the  pearl  was  nothing  to 
this  ;  and  I  trust  that,  in  our  own  Gallery,  our  poverty,  if  not 
our  will,  may  consent  to  a  more  modest  and  less  lavish  man- 
ner of  displaying  such  treasures  as  are  intrusted  to  us;  and  that 
the  very  limitation  of  our  possessions  may  induce  us  to  make 
that  the  object  of  our  care,  which  can  hardly  be  a  ground  of 
ostentation.  It  might,  indeed,  be  a  matter  of  some  difficulty 
to  conceive  an  arrangement  of  the  collections  in  the  Louvre 
or  the  Florence  Gallery  which  should  admit  of  every  picture 
being  hung  upon  the  line.  But  the  works  in  our  own,  includ- 
ing the  Vernon  and  Turner  bequests,2  present  no  obstacle  in 
their  number  to  our  making  the  building  which  shall  receive 
them  a  perfect  model  of  what  a  National  Gallery  ought  to  be. 
And  the  conditions  of  this  perfection  are  so  simple  that  if  we 
only  turn  our  attention  to  these  main  points  it  will  need  no 
great  architectural  ingenuity  to  attain  all  that  is  required. 

It  is  evident,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  building  ought  to 
consist  of  a  series  of  chambers  or  galleries  lighted  from 
above,  and  built  with  such  reference  to  the  pictures  they  are 
to  contain,  as  that  opposite  a  large  picture  room  enough 
should  be  allowed  for  the  spectator  to  retire  to  the  utmost 
distance  at  which  it  can  ever  "be  desirable  that  its  effect  should 


1  The  galleries  of  the  Louvre  were  reorganized  on  their  being  de- 
clared national  instead  of  crown  property,  after  the  Revolution  of  1848  ; 
and  the  choicest  pictures  were  then  collected  together  in  the  ' '  grand 
salon  carre,"  which,  although  since  rearranged,  still  contains  a  similar 
selection.  The  "best  Tintoret  on  this  side  of  the  Alps  "  is  the  Susannah 
and  the  Elders,  now  No.  349  in  that  room, 

2  The  gift  of  Mr.  Robert  Vernon,  in  1847,  consisted  of  157  pictures, 
all  of  them,  with  two  exceptions  only,  of  the  British  school.  The 
Turner  bequest  included  105  finished  oil  paintings,  in  addition  to  the 
numerous  sketches  and  drawings. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


61 


be  seen  ;  but,  as  economy  of  space  would  become  a  most  im- 
portant object  when  every  picture  was  to  be  hung  on  a  level 
with  the  eye,  smaller  apartments  might  open  from  the  larger 
ones  for  the  reception  of  smaller  pictures,  one  condition  being, 
however,  made  imperative,  whatever  space  was  sacrificed  to  it 
— namely,  that  the  works  of  every  master  should  be  collected 
together,  either  in  the  same  apartment  or  in  contiguous  ones. 
Nothing  has  so  much  retarded  the  advance  of  art  as  our  miser- 
able habit  of  mixing  the  works  of  every  master  and  of  every 
century.  More  would  be  learned  by  an  ordinarily  intelligent 
observer  in  simply  passing  from  a  room  in  which  there  were 
only  Titians,  to  another  in  which  there  were  only  Caraccis, 
than  by  reading  a  volume  of  lectures  on  color.  Few  minds 
are  strong  enough  first  to  abstract  and  then  to  generalize 
the  characters  of  paintings  hung  at  random.  Few  minds  are 
so  dull  as  not  at  once  to  perceive  the  points  of  difference,  were 
the  works  of  each  painter  set  by  themselves.  The  fatigue  of 
which  most  persons  complain  in  passing  through  a  picture 
gallery,  as  at  present  arranged,  is  indeed  partly  caused  by  the 
straining  effort  to  see  what  is  out  of  sight,  but  not  less  by  the 
continual  change  of  temper  and  of  tone  of  thought  demanded 
in  passing  from  the  work  of  one  master  to  that  of  another. 

The  works  of  each  being,  therefore,  set  by  themselves,*  and 
the  whole  collection  arranged  in  chronological  and  ethnologi- 
cal order,  let  apartments  be  designed  for  each  group  large 
enough  to  admit  of  the  increase  of  the  existing  collection  to 
any  probable  amount.  The  whole  gallery  would  thus  become 
of  great  length,  but  might  be  adapted  to  any  form  of  ground- 
plan  b}r  disposing  the  whole  in  a  labyrinthine  chain,  return- 
ing upon  itself.  Its  chronological  arrangement  would  neces- 
sitate  its  being  continuous,  rather  than  divided  into  many 
branches  or  sections.  Being  lighted  from  above,  it  must  be 
all  on  the  same  floor,  but  ought  at  least  to  be  raised  one  story 


*  An  example  of  a  cognate  school  might,  however,  be  occa- 
sionally introduced  for  the  sake  of  direct  comparison,  as  in 
one  instance  would  be  necessitated  by  the  condition  above 
mentioned  attached  to  part  of  the  Turner  bequest. 


62 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


above  the  ground,  and  might  admit  any  number  of  keepers1 
apartments,  or  of  schools,  beneath  ;  though  it  would  be  bettei 
to  make  it  quite  independent  of  these,  in  order  to  diminish 
the  risk  of  fire.  Its  walls  ought  on  every  side  to  be  surround- 
ed by  corridors,  so  that  the  interior  temperature  might  be 
kept  equal,  and  no  outer  surface  of  wall  on  which  pictures 
were  hung  exposed  to  the  weather.  Every  picture  should  be 
glazed,  and  the  horizon  which  the  painter  had  given  to  it 
placed  on  a  level  with  the  eye. 

Lastly,  opposite  each  picture  should  be  a  table,  containing, 
under  glass,  every  engraving  that  had  ever  been  made  from  it, 
and  any  studies  for  it,  by  the  master's  own  hand,  that  remain- 
ed, or  were  obtainable.  The  values  of  the  study  and  of  the 
picture  are  reciprocally  increased — of  the  former  more  than 
doubled — by  their  being  seen  together  ;  and  if  this  system 
were  once  adopted,  the  keepers  of  the  various  galleries  of 
Europe  would  doubtless  consent  to  such  exchanges  of  the 
sketches  in  their  possession  as  would  render  all  their  collec- 
tions more  interesting. 

I  trust,  Sir,  that  the  importance  of  this  subject  will  excuse 
the  extent  of  my  trespass  upon  your  columns,  and  that  the 
simplicity  and  self-evident  desirableness  of  the  arrangement 
I  have  described  may  vindicate  my  proposal  of  it  from  the 
charge  of  presumption. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  "  Modern  Painters.  " 

Herne  Hill,  Dulwich,  Dec.  27. 


[From  M  Tho  Times,"  January  27, 1866.] 

1HE  BRITISH  MUSEUM. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times:' 

Sir  :  As  I  see  in  your  impression  of  yesterday  that  my  name 
was  introduced  in  support  of  some  remarks  made,  at  the 
meeting  of  the  Society  of  Arts,  on  the  management  of  the 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


63 


British  Museum,1  and  as  the  tendency  of  the  remarks  I  refer 
to  was  depreciatory  of  the  efforts  and  aims  of  several  officers 
of  the  Museum — more  especially  of  the  work  done  on  the 
collection  of  minerals  by  my  friend  Mr.  Nevil  S.  Maskeiyne 2 — 
you  will,  I  hope,  permit  me,  not  having  been  present  at  the 
meeting,  to  express  my  feeling  on  the  subject  briefly  in  your 
columns. 

There  is  a  confused  notion  in  the  existing  public  mind  that 
the  British  Museum  is  partly  a  parish  school,  partly  a  circu- 
lating library,  and  partly  a  place  for  Christmas  entertainments. 

It  is  none  of  the  three,  and,  I  hope,  will  never  be  made  any 
of  the  three.  But  especially  and  most  distinctly  it  is  not  a 
"preparatory  school,"  nor  even  an  "  academy  for  young  gen- 
tlemen/' nor  even  a  "  working-men's  college."  A  national 
museum  is  one  thing,  a  national  place  of  education  another ; 
and  the  more  sternly  and  unequivocally  they  are  separated, 
the  better  will  each  perform  its  office — the  one  of  treasuring 
and  the  other  of  teaching.  I  heartily  wish  that  there  were  al- 
ready, as  one  day  there  must- be,  large  educational  museums 
in  every  district  of  London,  freely  open  every  day,  and  well 
lighted  and  wrarmed  at  night,  with  all  furniture  of  comfort, 
and  full  aids  for  the  use  of  their  contents  by  all  classes.  But 
you  might  just  as  rationally  send  the  British  public  to  the 
Tower  to  study  mineralogy  upon  the  Crown  jewels  as  make 
the  unique  pieces  of  a  worthy  national  collection  (such  as, 
owing  mainly  to  the  exertions  of  its  maligned  officers,  that  of 
our  British  Museum  has  recently  become)  the  means  of  ele- 
mentary public  instruction.  After  men  have  learnt  their 
science  or  their  art,  at  least  so  far  as  to  know  a  common  and 

1  At  the  meeting  of  the  Society,  in  the  Hall,  Adelphi,  Lord  Henry 
Lennox  read  a  paper  on  "  The  Uses  of  National  Museums  to  Local  In- 
stitutions," in  which  he  spoke  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  suggestions  "adopted 
and  recommended  to  Parliament  in  annual  reports,  and  in  obedience  to 
distinct  Commissions,"  as  having  been  unwarrantably  disregarded  since 
1858.  See  Mr.  Ruskin's  official  report  on  the  Turner  Bequest,  printed 
in  the  Report  of  the  Director  of  the  National  Gallery  to  the  Lords  of  the 
Treasury,  1858,  Appendix  vil. 

'2  Professor  Nevil  Story-Maskt  lyne  (now  M.P.  for  Cricklade)  was  then, 
and  tiil  his  recent  resignation,  Keeper  of  Mineralogy  at  the  Museum. 


64: 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


a  rare  example  in  either,  a  national  museum  is  useful,  and 
ought  to  be  easily  accessible  to  them  ;  but  until  then,  unique 
or  selected  specimens  in  natural  history  are  without  interest 
to  them,  and  the  best  art  is  as  useless  as  a  blank  wall.  For 
all  those  who  can  use  the  existing  national  collection  to  any 
purpose,  the  Catalogue  as  it  now  stands  is  amply  sufficient : 
it  would  be  difficult  to  conceive  a  more  serviceable  one.  But 
the  rapidly  progressive  state  of  (especially  mineralogical) 
science,  renders  it  impossible  for  the  Curators  to  make  their 
arrangements  in  all  points  satisfactory  or  for  long  periods 
permanent.  It  is  just  because  Mr.  Maskelyne  is  doing  more 
active,  continual,  and  careful  work  than,  as  far  as  I  know,  is 
at  present  done  in  any  national  museum  in  Europe — because 
he  is  completing  gaps  in  the  present  series  by  the  intercala- 
tion of  carefully  sought  specimens,  and  accurately  reforming 
its  classification  by  recently  corrected  analyses — that  the  col- 
lection cannot  yet  fall  into  the  formal  and  placid  order  in 
which  an  indolent  Curator  would  speedily  arrange  and  will- 
ingly leave  it. 

I  am  glad  that  Lord  H.  Lennox  referred  to  the  passage  in 
my  report  on  the  Turner  Collection  in  which  I  recommended 
that  certain  portions  of  that  great  series  should  be  distributed, 
for  permanence,  among  our  leading  provincial  towns.1  But 
I  had  rather  see  the  whole  Turner  Collection  buried,  not 
merely  in  the  cellars  of  the  National  Galleiy,  but  with  Pros- 
perous staff  fathoms  in  the  earth,  than  that  it  should  be  the 

1  In  Mr.  Raskin's  official  report  already  mentioned,  and  which  was 
made  at  the  close  of  his  labors  in  arranging  the  Turner  drawings,  and 
dated  March  27,  1858,  he  divided  the  collection  into  three  classes,  of 
which  the  third  consisted  of  drawings  available  for  distribution  among 
provincial  Schools  of  Art.  The  passage  of  the  report  referred  to  is  as  fol- 
lows :  u  The  remainder  of  the  collection  consists  of  drawings  of  miscel- 
laneous character,  from  which  many  might  be  spared  with  little  loss 
to  the  collection  in  London,  and  great  advantage  to  students  in  the 
provinces.  Five  or  six  collections,  each  completely  illustrative  of 
Turner's  modes  of  study,  and  successions  of  practice,  might  easily  he 
prepared  for  the  academies  of  Edinburgh,  Dublin,  and  the  principal 
English  manufacturing  towns." — See  also  the  similar  recommendation 
with  regard  to  the  Outlines  of  John  Leech,  in  the  letter  on  that  subject 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


65 


means  of  inaugurating  the  fatal  custom  of  carrying  great 
works  of  art  about  the  roads  for  a  show.  If  you  must  make 
them  educational  to  the  public,  hang  Titian's  Bacchus  up  for 
a  vintner's  sign,  and  give  Henry  VI. 's  Psalter  ]  for  a  spelling- 
book  to  the  Bluecoat  School  ;  but,  at  least,  hang  the  one  from 
a  permanent  post,  and  chain  the  other  to  the  boys'  desks,  and 
do  not  send  them  about  in  caravans  to  every  annual  Barthol- 
omew Fair. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  Buskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Jan.  26. 

[From  "The  Leicester  Chronicle  and  Mercury,"  January  31,  and  reprinted  in  "The 
Times,"  February  2,  1880.] 

ON  THE  PURCHASE  OF  PICTURES.11 

Dear  Sir  :  Your  letter  is  deeply  interesting  to  me,  but  what 
use  is  there  in  my  telling  you  what  to  do  ?  The  mob  won't 
let  you  do  it.  It  is  fatally  true  that  no  one  nowadays  can  ap- 
preciate pictures  by  the  Old  Masters  !  and  that  every  one  can 
understand  Frith's  "  Derby  Day" — that  is  to  say,  everybody 
is  interested  in  jockeys,  harlots,  mountebanks,  and  men  about 
town  ;  but  nobody  in  saints,  heroes,  kings,  or  wise  men — 
either  from  the  east  or  west.  What  can  you  do  ?  If  your 
Committee  is  strong  enough  to  carry  such  a  resolution  as  the 
appointment  of  any  singly  responsible  person,  any  well-in- 
formed gentleman  of  taste  in  your  neighborhood,  to  buy  for 
the  Leicester  public  just  what  he  would  buy  for  himself — that 
is  to  say,  himself  and  Ms  family — children  being  the  really 
most  important  of  the  untaught  public — and  to  answer  simply 
to  all  accusation — that  is,  a  good  and  worthy  piece  of  art 

1  Titian's  Bacchus  and  Ariadne — already  mentioned,  p.  40.  Henry 
VI. 's  Psalter  is  in  the  British  Museum  (u  Domitian  A.  17,"  in  the  Cot- 
tonian  Catalogue).  It  is  of  early  fifteenth  century  work,  and  was  exe- 
cuted in  England  by  a  French  artist  for  the  then  youthful  king,  from 
whom  it  takes  its  name. 

2  This  letter  was  written  in  reply  to  one  requesting  Mr.  Huskin's  views 
on  the  best  means  of  forming  a  public  Gallery  at  Leicester. 


66 


ARROWS  OF  THE  MlACtt. 


(past  or  present,  no  matter  which) — make  the  most  and  best 
you  can  of  it.  That  method  so  long  as  tenable  will  be  usef  uL 
I  know  of  no  other. 

Faithfully  yours,  J.  Buskin. 


HI.  — PKE-E  APH  AELITISM. 

[From  "  The  Times,"  May  13,  1851.] 

THE  PRE-RAPHAELITE  BRETHREN. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times." 

Sir  :  Your  usual  liberality  will,  I  trust,  give  a  place  in  your 
columns  to  this  expression  of  my  regret  that  the  tone  of  the 
critique  which  appeared  in  Tae  Times  of  Wednesday  last  on 
the  works  of  Mr.  Millais  and  Mr.  Hunt,  now  in  the  Royal 
Academy,  should  have  been  scornful  as  well  as  severe.1 

I  regret  it,  first,  because  the  mere  labor  bestowed  on  those 
Works,  and  their  fidelity  to  a  certain  order  of  truth  (labor  and 
fidelity  which  are  altogether  indisputable),  ought  at  once  to 
have  placed  them  above  the  level  of  mere  contempt ;  and,  sec- 
ondly, because  I  believe  these  young  artists  to  be  at  a  most 
critical  period  of  their  career — at  a  turning-point,  from  which 
they  may  either  sink  into  nothingness  or  rise  to  very  real 
greatness  ;  and  I  believe  also,  that  whether  they  choose  the 
upward  or  the  downward  path,  may  in  no  small  degree  de- 
pend upon  the  character  of  the  criticism  which  their  works 
have  to  sustain.    I  do  not  wish  in  any  way  to  dispute  or  in- 

1  That  the  critique  was  sufficiently  bitter,  may  be  gathered  from  the 
following  portions  of  it  :  "  These  young  artists  have  unfortunately  be* 
come  notorious  by  addicting  themselves  to  an  antiquated  style  and  an 
affected  simplicity  in  painting.  .  .  .  We  can  extend  no  toleration 
to  a  mere  senile  imitation  of  the  cramped  style,  false  perspective,  and 
crude  color  of  remote  antiquity.  We  want  not  to  see  what  Fuseli  termed 
drapery  4  snapped  instead  of  folded ;  '  faces  bloated  into  apoplexy,  or 
extenuated  to  skeletons  ;  color  borrowed  from  the  jars  in  a  druggist's 
shop,  and  expression  forced  into  caricature.  .  .  .  That  morbid  in- 
fatuation which  sacrifices  truth,  beauty,  and  genuine  feeling  to  mere 
eccentricity,  deserves  no  quarter  at  the  hands  of  the  public." 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


67 


ralidate  the  general  truth  of  your  critique  on  the  Koyal  Acad- 
emy ;  nor  am  I  surprised  at  the  estimate  which  the  writer 
formed  of  the  pictures  in  question  when  rapidly  compared 
with  works  of  totally  different  style  and  aim  ;  nay,  when  I 
first  saw  the  chief  picture  by  Millais  in  the  Exhibition  of  last 
year,1  I  had  nearly  come  to  the  same  conclusion  myself.  But 
I  ask  your  permission,  in  justice  to  artists  who  have  at  least 
given  much  time  and  toil  to  their  pictures,  to  institute  some 
more  serious  inquiry  into  their  merits  and  faults  than  your 
general  notice  of  the  Academy  could  possibly  have  admitted. 

Let  me  state,  in  the  first  place,  that  I  have  no  acquaintance 
with  any  of  these  artists,  and  very  imperfect  sympathy  with 
them.  No  one  who  has  met  with  any  of  my  writings  will  sus- 
pect me  of  desiring  to  encourage  them  in  their  Romanist  and 
Tractarian  tendencies.2  I  am  glad  to  see  that  Mr.  Millais* 
lady  in  blue  3  is  heartily  tired  of  her  painted  window  and 
idolatrous  toilet-table  ;  and  I  have  no  particular  respect  for 

1  A  sacred  picture  (No.  518)  upon  the  text,  ' 1  And  one  shall  say  unto 
him.  What  are  these  wounds  in  thine  hands  ?  Then  he  shall  answer, 
Those  with  which  I  was  wounded  in  the  house  of  my  friends  "  (Zecha- 
riah  xiii.  6).  He  had  two  other  pictures  in  the  Academy  of  1850, 
namely,  Portrait  of  a  gentleman  and  his  grandchild  (No.  429),  and 
Ferdinand  lured  by  Ariel  (No.  504) — Shakespeare,  Tempest,  Act  ii. 
sc.  2. 

2  See  the  next  letter,  p.  70.  With  regard  to  the  religious  tone  of 
some  parts  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  early  writings,  it  is  worth  noting  that  in  the 
recent  reissue  (1880)  of  the  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,  "  some  pieces 
of  rabid  and  utterly  false  Protestantism  .  .  .  are  cut  from  text  and 
appendix  alike." — (Preface,  p.  1  ;  and  see  the  note  on  one  such  omission 
on  p.  19).  So  again  in  the  preface  to  the  final  edition  of  Modern 
Painters,  issued  in  1873,  Mr.  Ruskin  stated  that  his  objection  to  repub- 
lishing unrevised  the  first  two  volumes  of  that  work  was  that  1 4  they  are 
written  in  a  narrow  enthusiasm,  and  the  substance  of  their  metaphysi- 
cal and  religious  speculation  is  only  justifiable  on  the  ground  of  its  ab- 
solute sincerity." — See  also  Sesame  and  Lilies,  1871  ed.,  Preface,  p.  2. 

3  The  pre-Raphaelite  pictures  exhibited  in  the  Academy  of  this  year, 
and  referred  to  here  and  in  the  following  letter,  were  the  Mariana 
(No.  561)  of  Millais,  The  Return  of  the  Dove  to  the  Ark  (No.  65),  and 
The  Woodman's  Daughter  (No.  799),  (see  Coventry  Patmore's  Poems, 
vol.  i.  p.  184—4  vol.  ed.,  1879),  both  also  by  Millais;  the  Valentine  re- 
ceiving (rescuing  ?)  Sylvia  from  Proteus  (No.  594),  of  Holman  Hunt; 


88 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


Mr.  Collins'  lady  in  white,  because  her  sympathies  are  limited 
by  a  dead  wall,  or  divided  between  some  gold  fish  and  a  tad- 
pole— (the  latter  Mr.  Collins  may,  perhaps,  permit  me  to  sug- 
gest en  passant,  as  he  is  already  half  a  frog,  is  rather  too  small 
for  his  age).  But  I  happen  to  have  a  special  acquaintance 
with  the  water  plant  Alisma  Plantago,  among  which  the  said 
gold  fish  are  swimming ;  and  as  I  never  saw  it  so  thoroughly 
or  so  well  drawn,  I  must  take  leave  to  remonstrate  with  you, 
when  you  say  sweepingly  that  these  men  "  sacrifice  truth  as 
well  as  feeling  to  eccentricity."  For  as  a  mere  botanical  study 
of  the  water-lily  and  Alisma,  as  well  as  of  the  common  lily  and 
several  other  garden  flowers,  this  picture 'would  be  invaluable 
to  me,  and  I  heartily  wish  it  were  mine. 

But,  before  entering  into  such  particulars,  let  me  correct  an 
impression  which  your  article  is  likely  to  induce  in  most 
minds,  and  which  is  altogether  false.  These  pre-Baphaelites 
(I  cannot  compliment  them  on  common-sense  in  choice  of  a 
nom  de  guerre)  do  not  desire  nor  pretend  in  any  \yay  to  imi- 
tate antique  painting  as  such.  They  know  very  little  of  an- 
cient paintings  who  suppose  the  works  of  these  young  artists  to 
resemble  them.1    As  far  as  I  can  judge  of  their  aim — for,  as  I 

and  the  Convent  Thoughts  (No.  493)  of  Mr.  C.  Collins,  to  which  were 
alrixed  the  lines  from  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  (Act  i.  sc.  1) 

u  Thrice  blessed  they,  that  master  so  their  blood 
To  undergo  such  maiden  pilgrimage  ;  " 

and  the  verse  (Psalm  cxliii.  5),  "I  meditate  on  all  Thy  works  ;  I  muse 
on  the  work  of  Thy  hands."  The  last-named  artist  also  had  a  portrait 
of  Mr.  William  Bennett  (No.  718)  in  the  Exhibition — not,  however,  al- 
luded to  in  this  letter.  Mr.  Charles  Allston  Collins,  who  was  the  son  of 
"William  Collins,  R.  A. ,  and  the  younger  brother  of  Mr.  Wilkie  Collins,  sub- 
sequently turned  his  attention  to  literature,  and  may  be  remembered  as 
the  author  of  a  Cruise  upon  Wheels,  The  Eye-Witness,  and  other  writings. 

1  Compare  Modern  Painters,  vol.  i.  p.  415,  note,  where  allusion  is 
made  to  the  painters  of  a  society  which  unfortunately,  or  rather  un- 
wisely, has  given  itself  the  name  of  '  Pre-Raphaelite  ;  ?  unfortunately, 
because  the  principles  on  which  its  members  are  working  are  neither 
pre-  nor  post-Raphaelite,  but  everlasting.  They  are  endeavoring  to  paint 
with  the  highest  possible  degree  of  completion,  what  they  see  in  nature, 
without  reference  to  conventional  established  rules  ;  but  by  no  means  ta 
imitate  the  style  of  any  past  epoch. 


LETTERS  ON  ART, 


69 


said,  I  do  not  know  the  men  themselves — the  pre-Raphaelites 
intend  to  surrender  no  advantage  which  the  knowledge  or  in- 
ventions of  the  present  time  can  afford  to  their  art.  They  in- 
tend to  return  to  early  days  in  this  one  point  only — that,  as 
far  as  in  them  lies,  they  will  draw  either  what  they  see,  or  what 
they  suppose  might  have  been  the  actual  facts  of  the  scene  they 
desire  to  represent,  irrespective  of  any  conventional  rules  of 
picture-making  ;  and  they  have  chosen  their  unfortunate 
though  not  inaccurate  name  because  all  artists  did  this  before 
Raphael's  time,  and  after  Raphael's  time  did  not  this,  but  sought 
to  paint  fair  pictures,  rather  than  represent  stern  facts  ;  of 
which  the  consequence  has  been  that,  from  Raphael's  time  to 
this  day,  historical  art  has  been  in  acknowledged  decadence. 

Now,  sir,  presupposing  that  the  intention  of  these  men  was 
to  return  to  archaic  art  instead  of  to  archaic  honesty,  your 
critic  borrows  Fuseli's  expression  respecting  ancient  draperies 
"  snapped  instead  of  folded,"  and  asserts  that  in  these  pictures 
there  is  a  "servile  imitation  of  false  perspective."  To  which  I 
have  just  this  to  answer  : 

That  there  is  not  one  single  error  in  perspective  in  four 
out  of  the  five  pictures  in  question  ;  and  that  in.  Millais* 
" Mariana"  there  is  but  this  one — that  the  top  of  the  green 
curtain  in  the  distant  window  has  too  low  a  vanishing-point ; 
and  that  I  will  undertake,  if  need  be,  to  point  out  and  prove  a 
dozen  worse  errors  in  perspective  in  any  twelve  pictures,  con- 
taining architecture,  taken  at  random  from  among  the  works 
of  the  popular  painters  of  the  day. 

Secondly  :  that,  putting  aside  the  small  Muiready,  and  the 
works  of  Thorburn  and  Sir  W.  Ross,  and  perhaps  some  others 
of  those  in  the  miniature  room  which  I  have  not  examined, 
there  is  not  a  single  study  of  drapery  in  the  whole  Academy, 
be  it  in  large  works  or  small,  which  for  perfect  truth,  power, 
and  finish  could  be  compared  for  an  instant  with  the  black 
sleeve  of  the  Julia,  or  with  the  velvet  on  the  breast  and  the 
chain  mail  of  the  Valentine,  of  Mr.  Hunt's  picture  ;  or  with 
the  white  draperies  on  the  table  of  Mr.  Millais'  "  Mariana," 
and  of  the  right-hand  figure  in  the  same  painter's  "  Dove  re- 
turning to  the  Ark" 


70 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


And  further :  that  as  studies  both  of  drapery  and  of  every 
minor  detail,  there  has  been  nothing  in  art  so  earnest  or  so 
complete  as  these  pictures  since  the  days  of  Albert  Durer. 
This  I  assert  generally  and  fearlessly.  On  the  other  hand,  I 
am  perfectly  ready  to  admit  that  Mr.  Hunt's  " Sylvia"  is  not 
a  person  whom  Proteus  or  any  one  else  would  have  been  likely 
to  fall  in  love  with  at  first  sight  ;  and  that  one  cannot  feel  very 
sincere  delight  that  Mr.  Millais'  "  "Wives  of  the  Sons  of  Noah  " 
should  have  escaped  the  Deluge ;  with  many  other  faults 
besides,  on  which  I  will  not  enlarge  at  present,  because  I  have 
already  occupied  too  much  of  your  valuable  space,  and  I  hope 
to  enter  into  more  special  criticism  in  a  future  letter. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  "  Modern  Painters." 

Denmark  Hill,  May  9. 


[From  "  The  Times,1'  May  30,  1851.1 

THE  PRE-RAPHAELITE  BRETHREN. 

To  the  Editor  of  "The  Times:1 

Sir  :  Your  obliging  insertion  of  my  former  letter  encour- 
ages me  to  trouble  you  with  one  or  two  further  notes  respect- 
ing the  pre-Raphaelite  pictures.  I  had  intended,  in  continu- 
ation of  my  first  letter,  to  institute  as  close  an  inquiry  as  I 
could  into  the  character  of  the  morbid  tendencies  which  pre- 
vent these  works  from  favorably  arresting  the  attention  of  the 
public  ;  but  I  believe  there  are  so  few  pictures  in  the  Academy 
whose  reputation  would  not  be  grievously  diminished  by  a 
deliberate  inventory  of  their  errors,  that  I  am  disinclined  to 
undertake  so  ungracious  a  task  with  respect  to  this  or  that 
particular  work.  These  points,  however,  may  be  noted,  partly 
for  the  consideration  of  the  painters  themselves,  partly  that 
forgiveness  of  them  may  be  asked  from  the  public  in  consid- 
eration of  high  merits  in  other  respects. 

The  most  painful  of  these  defects  is  unhappily  also  the 
most  prominent— the  commonness  of  feature  in  many  of  the 


LETTERS  ON  AHT. 


71 


principal  figures.  In  Mr.  Hunt's  "  Valentine  defending  Syl* 
via,"  this  is.  indeed,  almost  the  only  fault.  Further  examina- 
tion of  this  picture  has  even  raised  the  estimate  I  had  pre- 
viously formed  of  its  marvellous  truth  in  detail  and  splendor 
in  color  ;  nor  is  its  general  conception  less  deserving  of  praise  ; 
the  action  of  Valentine,  his  arm  thrown  round  Sylvia,  and  his 
hand  clasping  hers  at  the  same  instant  as  she  falls  at  his  feet, 
is  most  faithful  and  beautiful,  nor  less  so  the  contending  of 
doubt  and  distress  with  awakening  hope  in  the  half -shadowed, 
half -sunlit  countenance  of  Julia.  Nay,  even  the  momentary 
struggle  of  Proteus  with  Sylvia  just  past,  is  indicated  by  the 
trodden  grass  and  broken  fungi  of  the  foreground.  But  all 
this  thoughtful  conception,  and  absolutely  inimitable  execu- 
tion, fail  in  making  immediate  appeal  to  the  feelings,  owing 
to  the  unfortunate  type  chosen  for  the  face  of  Sylvia.  Cer- 
tainly this  cannot  be  she  whose  lover  was 

"  As  ricli  in  having  such  a  jewel, 
As  twenty  seas,  if  all  their  sands  were  pearl."  1 

Nor  is  it,  perhaps,  less  to  be  regretted  that,  while  in  Shak- 
speare's  play  there  are  nominally  "  Two  Gentlemen,"  in  Mr. 
Hunt's  picture  there  should  only  be  one — at  least,  the  kneeling 
figure  on  the  right  has  by  no  means  the  look  of  a  gentleman. 
But  this  may  be  on  purpose,  for  any  one  who  remembers  the 
conduct  of  Proteus  throughout  the  previous  scenes  will,  I  think, 
be  disposed  to  consider  that  the  error  lies  more  in  Shakspeare's 
nomenclature  than  in  Mr.  Hunt's  ideal. 

No  defence  can,  however,  be  offered  for  the  choice  of  feat- 
ures in  the  left-hand  figure  of  Mr.  Millais'  ? 'Dove  returning 
to  the  Ark."  I  cannot  understand  how  a  painter  so  sensible 
of  the  utmost  refinement  of  beauty  in  other  objects  should 
deliberately  choose  for  his  model  a  type  far  inferior  to  that  of 
average  humanity,  and  unredeemed  by  any  expression  save 
that  of  dull  self-complacency.  Yet,  let  the  spectator  who 
desires  to  be  just  turn  away  from  this  head,  and  contemplate 


1  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  Act  ii.  sc.  4.  The  scene  of  the  picture 
was  taken  from  Act  v.  sc.  4. 


72 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


rather  the  tender  and  beautiful  expression  of  the  stooping 
figure,  and  the  intense  harmony  of  color  in  the  exquisitely 
finished  draperies  ;  let  him  note  also  the  ruffling  of  the  plu- 
mage of  the  wearied  dove,  one  of  its  feathers  falling  on  the 
arm  of  the  figure  which  holds  it,  and  another  to  the  ground, 
where,  by  the  bye,  the  hay  is  painted  not  only  elaborately,  but 
with  the  most  perfect  ease  of  touch  and  mastery  of  effect,  es- 
pecially to  be  observed  because  this  freedom  of  execution  is  a 
modern  excellence,  which  it  has  been  inaccurately  stated  that 
these  painters  despise,  but  which,  in  reality,  is  one  of  the  re- 
markable  distinctions  between  their  painting  and  that  of  Van 
Eyck  or  Hemling,  which  caused  me  to  say  in  my  first  letter 
that  "  those  knew  little  of  ancient  painting  who  supposed  the 
works  of  these  men  to  resemble  it." 

Next  to  this  false  choice  of  feature,  and  in  connection  with 
it,  is  to  be  noted  the  defect  in  the  coloring  of  the  flesh.  The 
hands,  at  least  in  the  pictures  in  Millais,  are  almost  always 
ill  painted,  and  the  flesh  tint  in  general  is  wrought  out  of 
crude  purples  and  dusky  yellows.  It  appears  just  possible 
that  much  of  this  evil  may  arise  from  the  attempt  to  obtain 
too  much  transparency — an  attempt  w7hich  has  injured  also 
not  a  few  of  the  best  works  of  Mulready.  I  believe  it  will  be 
generally  found  that  close  study  of  minor  details  is  unfavor- 
able to  flesh  painting  ;  it  was  noticed  of  the  drawing  by  John 
Lewis,  in  the  old  water-color  exhibition  of  1850,1  (a  work 
which,  as  regards  its  treatment  of  detail,  may  be  ranged  iu 
the  same  class  with  the  pre-Raphaelite  pictures),  that  the 
faces  were  the  worst  painted  portions  of  the  whole. 

The  apparent  want  of  shade  is,  however,  perhaps  the  fault 
which  most  hurts  the  general  eye.  The  fact  is,  nevertheless, 
that  the  fault  is  far  more  in  the  other  pictures  of  the  Academy 
than  in  the  pre-Raphaelite  ones.    It  is  the  former  that  are 

1  The  Hhareem  (No.  147),  noticed,  partly  to  the  above  effect,  in  The 
Times,  May  1,  1850.  It  will  be  remembered  that  John  Lewis  is,  with 
Turner,  Millais,  Prout,  Mulready,  and  Edwin  Landseer,  one  of  the 
artists  particularly  mentioned  in  Mr.  Buskin*  s  pamphlet  on  "Pre- 
Raphaelism  "  (1851),  p.  33  ;  and  see  also  Academy  Notes,  III,  1857,  p. 
48.  •  • 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


73 


false,  not  the  latter,  except  so  far  as  every  picture  must  be 
false  which  endeavors  to  represent  living  sunlight  with  dead 
pigments.  I  think  Mr.  Hunt  has  a  slight  tendency  to  exag- 
gerate reflected  lights  ;  and  if  Mr.  Millais  has  ever  been  near 
a  piece  of  good  painted  glass,  he  ought  to  have  known  that  its 
tone  is  more  dusky  and  sober  than  that  of  his  Mariana's  win- 
dow. But  for  the  most  part  these  pictures  are  rashly  con- 
demned because  the  only  light  wrhich  w7e  are  accustomed  to 
see  represented  is  that  which  falls  on  the  artist's  model  in 
his  dim  painting  room,  not  that  of  sunshine  in  the  fields. 

I  do  not  think  I  can  go  much  further  in  fault-finding.  I 
had,  indeed,  something  to  urge  respecting  what  I  supposed  to 
be  the  Romanizing  tendencies  of  the  painters  ;  but  I  have 
received  a  letter  assuring  me  that  I  was  wrong  in  attributing 
to  them  anything  of  the  kind  ;  whereupon,  all  that  I  can  say 
is  that,  instead  of  the  "  pilgrimage  "  of  Mr.  Collins'  maiden 
over  a  plank  and  round  a  fish-pond,  that  old  pilgrimage  of 
Christiana  and  her  children  towards  the  place  wdiere  they 
should  "look  the  Fountain  of  Mercy  in  the  face,"  would  have 
been  more  to  the  purpose  in  these  times.  And  so  I  wish 
them  all  heartily  good-speed,  believing  in  sincerity  that  if 
they  temper  the  courage  and  energy  which  they  have  shown 
in  the  adoption  of  their  systems  with  patience  and  discretion 
in  framing  it,  and  if  they  do  not  suffer  themselves  to  be 
driven  by  harsh  or  careless  criticism  into  rejection  of  the 
ordinary  means  of  obtaining  influence  over  the  minds  of 
others,  they  may,  as  they  gain  experience,  lay  in  our  England 
the  foundations  of  a  school  of  art  nobler  than  the  world  has 
seen  for  three  hundred  years,1 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  "Modern  Painters. " 

Denmark  Hill,  May  26. 


1  "  I  have  great  hope  that  they  may  become  the  foundation  of  a  more 
earnest  and  able  school  of  art  than  we  have  seen  for  centuries.'' — Mod- 
ern Painters,  vol.  i, ,  p.  415,  note. 


74 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


[From  "  The  Times,"'  May  5.  1854.] 

THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  WORLD. 
By  Holman  Hunt. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times.1' 

Sir  :  I  trust  that,  with  your  usual  kindness  and  liberality; 
you  will  give  me  room  in  your  columns  for  a  few  words  re- 
specting the  principal  prse-Raphaelite  picture  in  the  Exhibition 
of  the  Royal  Academy  this  year.  Its  painter  is  travelling  in 
the  Holy  Land,  and  can  neither  suffer  nor  "benefit  by  criticism. 
But  I  am  solicitous  that  justice  should  be  done  to  his  work, 
not  for  his  sake,  but  for  that  of  the  large  number  of  persons 
who,  during  the  year,  will  have  an  opportunity  of  seeing  it, 
and  on  whom,  if  rightly  understood,  it  may  make  an  impres- 
sion for  which  they  will  ever  afterwards  be  grateful. 1 

I  speak  of  the  picture  called  "  the  Light  of  the  World,"  by 
Mr.  Holman  Hunt.  Standing  by  it  yesterday  for  upwards 
of  an  hour,  I  watched  the  effect  it  produced  upon  the  pnssers- 
by.  Few  stopped  to  look  at  it,  and  those  who  did  almost  in- 
variably with  some  contemptuous  expression,  founded  on 
what  appeared  to  them  the  absurdity  of  representing  the 
Saviour  with  a  lantern  in  his  hand.  Now,  it  ought  to  be  re- 
membered that,  whatever  may  be  the  faults  of  a  prae-Raphael- 
ite  picture,  it  must  at  least  have  taken  much  time  ;  and  there- 
fore it  may  not  unwarrantably  be  presumed  that  conceptions 
which  are  to  be  laboriously  realized  are  not  adopted  in  the 
first  instance  without  some  reflection.  So  that  the  spectator 
may  surely  question  wTith  himself  whether  the  objections  which 
now  strike  every  one  in  a  moment  might  not  possibly  have 
occurred  to  the  painter  himself,  either  during  the  time  devoted 
to  the  design  of  the  picture,  or  the  months  of  labor  required 

1  Of  the  two  pictures  described  in  this  and  the  following  letter,  The 
Light  of  the  World  is  well  known  from  the  engraving  of  it  by  W.  H. 
Simmons.  It  was  originally  purchased  by  Mr.  Thomas  Combe,  of  Ox- 
ford, whose  widow  has  recently  presented  it  to  Keble  College,  where  it 
now  hangs,  in  the  library.  The  subject  of  the  second  picture,  which  is 
less  well  known,  and  which  has  never  been  engraved,  sufficiently  ap- 
pears from  the  letter  describing  it. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


75 


for  its  execution  ;  and  whether,  therefore,  there  may  not  be 
some  reason  for  his  persistence  in  such  an  idea,  not  discover- 
able at  the  first  glance. 

Mr.  Hunt  has  never  explained  his  work  to  me.  I  give  what 
appears  to  me  its  palpable  interpretation. 

The  legend  beneath  it  is  the  beautiful  verse,  "  Behold,  I 
stand  at  the  door  and  knock.  If  any  man  hear  my  voice,  and 
open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  to  him,  and  will  sup  with  him, 
and  he  with  me." — Rev.  iii.  20.  On  the  left-hand  side  of  the 
picture  is  seen  this  door  of  the  human  soul.  It  is  fast  barred : 
its  bars  and  nails  are  rusty  ;  it  is  knitted  and  bound  to  its 
stanchions  by  creeping  tendrils  of  ivy,  showing  that  it  has 
never  been  opened.  A  bat  hovers  about  it ;  its  threshold  is 
overgrown  with  brambles,  nettles,  and  fruitless  corn — the  wild 
grass  "  whereof  the  mower  filleth  not  his  hand,  nor  he  that 
bindeth  the  sheaves  his  bosom."  Christ  approaches  it  in  the 
night-time — Christ,  in  his  everlasting  offices  of  prophet,  priest, 
and  king.  He  wears  the  white  robe,  representing  the  power 
of  the  Spirit  upon  him  ;  the  jewelled  robe  and  breast-plate, 
representing  the  sacerdotal  investiture ;  the  rayed  crown  of 
gold,  inwoven  with  the  crown  of  thorns  ;  not  dead  thorns,  but 
now  bearing  soft  leaves,  for  the  healing  of  the  nations. 

Now,  when  Christ  enters  any  human  heart,  he  bears  with 
him  a  twofold  light :  first,  the  light  of  conscience,  which  dis- 
plays past  sin,  and  afterwards  the  light  of  peace,  the  hope  of 
salvation.  The  lantern,  carried  in  Christ's  left  hand,  is  this 
light  of  conscience.  Its  fire  is  red  and  fierce  ;  it  falls  only  on 
the  closed  door,  on  the  weeds  which  encumber  it,  and  on  an 
apple  shaken  from  one  of  the  trees  of  the  orchard,  thus  mark- 
ing that  the  entire  awakening  of  the  conscience  is  not  merely 
to  committed,  but  to  hereditary  guilt. 

The  light  is  suspended  by  a  chain,  wrapt  about  the  wrist 
of  the  figure,  showing  that  the  light  which  reveals  sin  appears 
to  the  sinner  also  to  chain  the  hand  of  Christ. 

The  light  which  proceeds  from  the  head  of  the  figure,  on 
the  contrary,  is  that  of  the  hope  of  salvation ;  it  springs  from 
the  crown  of  thorns,  and,  though  itself  sad,  subdued,  and 
full  of  softness,  is  yet  so  powerful  that  it  entirely  melts  into 


7G 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACK 


the  glow  of  it  the  forms  of  the  leayes  and  boughs,  which  it 
crosses,  showing  that  every  earthly  object  must  be  hidden  by 
this  light,  where  its  sphere  extends. 

I  believe  there  are  very  few  persons  on  whom  the  picture, 
thus  justly  understood,  will  not  produce  a  deep  impression. 
For  my  own  part,  I  think  it  one  of  the  very  noblest  works  of 
sacred  art  ever  produced  in  this  or  any  other  age. 

It  may,  perhaps,  be  answered,  that  works  of  art  ought  not 
to  stand  in  need  of  interpretation  of  this  kind.  Indeed,  we 
have  been  so  long  accustomed  to  see  pictures  painted  without 
any  purpose  or  intention  whatsoever,  that  the  unexpected 
existence  of  meaning  in  a  work  of  art  may  very  naturally  at 
first  appear  to  us  an  unkind  demand  on  the  spectator's  under- 
standing. But  in  a  few  years  more  I  hope  the  English  pub- 
lic may  be  convinced  of  the  simple  truth,  that  neither  a  great 
fact,  nor  a  great  man,  nor  a  great  poem,  nor  a  great  picture, 
nor  any  other  great  thing,  can  be  fathomed  to  the  very  bottom 
in  a  moment  of  time  ;  and  that  no  high  enjoyment,  either  in 
picture-seeing  or  any  other  occupation,  is  consistent  with  a 
total  lethargy  of  the  powers  of  the  understanding. 

As  far  as  regards  the  technical  qualities  of  Mr.  Hunt's 
painting,  I  would  only  ask  the  spectator  to  observe  this  dif- 
ference between  true  prse-Raphaelite  work  and  its  imitations. 
The  true  work  represents  all  objects  exactly  as  they  would 
appear  in  nature  in  the  position  and  at  the  distances  which 
the  arrangement  of  the  picture  supposes.  The  false  work 
represents  them  with  all  their  details,  as  if  seen  through  a 
microscope.  Examine  closely  the  ivy  on  the  door  in  Mr. 
Hunt's  picture,  and  there  will  not  be  found  in  it  a  single  clear 
outline.  All  is  the  most  exquisite  mystery  of  color ;  becom- 
ing reality  at  its  due  distance.  In  like  manner  examine  the 
small  gems  on  the  robe  of  the  figure.  Not  one  will  be  made 
out  in  form,  and  yet  there  is  not  one  of  all  those  minute 
points  of  green  color,  but  it  has  two  or  three  distinctly  varied 
shades  of  green  in  it,  giving  it  mysterious  value  and  lustre. 

The  spurious  imitations  of  prse-Eaphaelite  work  represent 
the  most  minute  leaves  and  other  objects  with  sharp  outlines, 
but  with  no  variety  of  color,  and  with  none  of  the  conceal- 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


77 


ment,  none  of  the  infinity  of  nature.  With  this  spurious 
work  the  walls  of  the  Academy  are  half  covered  ;  of  the  true 
school  one  very  small  example  may  be  pointed  out,  being 
hung  so  low  that  it  might  otherwise  escape  attention.  It  is 
not  by  any  means  perfect,  but  still  very  lovely — the  study  of 
a  calm  pool  in  a  mountain  brook,  by  Mr.  J.  Dearie,  No.  1913 
£i  Evening,  on  the  Marchno,  North  Wales."  1 
I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  "  Modern  Painters.'5 
Denmark  Hill,  May  4. 


[From  "The  Times,"  May  25,  1854.] 

"  THE  AWAKENING  CONSCIENCE" 

By  Holman  Hunt. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times:' 

Sir  :  Your  kind  insertion  of  my  notes  on  Mr.  Hunt's  prin- 
cipal picture  encourages  me  to  hope  that  you  may  yet  allow 
me  room  in  your  columns  for  a  few  words  respecting  his  sec 
ond  work  in  the  Royal  Academy,  the  "Awakening  Conscience. " 
Not  that  this  picture  is  obscure,  or  its  story  feebly  told.  I 
am  at  a  loss  to  know  how  its  meaning  could  be  rendered  more 
distinctly,  but  assuredly  it  is  not  understood.  People  gaze 
at  it  in  a  blank  wonder,  and  leave  it  hopelessly  ;  so  that, 
though  it  is  almost  an  insult  to  the  painter  to  explain  his 
thoughts  in  this  instance,  I  cannot  persuade  myself  to  leave  it 
thus  misunderstood.  The  poor  girl  has  been  sitting  singing 
with  her  seducer ;  some  chance  words  of  the  song,  "  Oft  in 
the  stilly  night,"  have  struck  upon  the  numbed  places  of  her 
heart ;  she  has  started  up  in  agony  ;  he,  not  seeing  her  face, 

1  Mr.  Dearie  informs  me  that  tliis  picture  was  bought  from  the  walls 
of  the  Academy  by  a  prize-holder  in  the  Art  Union  of  London.  He 
adds  that  the  purchaser  resided  in  either  America  or  Australia,  and 
that  the  picture  is  now,  therefore,  presumably  in  one  or  other  of  those 
countries. 


78 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACE. 


goes  on  singing,  striking  the  keys  carelessly  with  his  gloved 
hand. 

I  suppose  that  no  one  possessing  the  slightest  knowledge  of 
expression  could  remain  untouched  by  the  countenance  of  the 
lost  girl,  rent  from  its  beauty  into  sudden  horror ;  the  lips 
ha]f  open,  indistinct  in  their  purple  quivering ;  the  teeth  set 
hard  ;  the  eyes  filled  with  the  fearful  light  of  futurity,  and 
with  tears  of  ancient  days.  But  I  can  easily  understand  that 
to  many  persons  the  careful  rendering  of  the  inferior  details  in 
this  picture  cannot  but  be  at  first  offensive,  as  calling  their  at- 
tention away  from  the  principle  subject.  It  is  true  that  detail 
of  this  kind  has  long  been  so  carelessly  rendered,  that  the 
perfect  finishing  of  it  becomes  a  matter  of  curiosity,  and  there- 
fore an  interruption  to  serious  thought.  But,  without  enter- 
ing into  the  question  of  the  general  propriety  of  such  treat- 
ment, I  would  only  observe  that,  at  least  in  this  instance,  it  is 
based  on  a  truer  principle  of  the  pathetic  than  any  of  the  com- 
mon artistical  expedients  of  the  schools.  Nothing  is  more 
notable  than  the  way  in  which  even  the  most  trivial  objects 
force  themselves  upon  the  attention  of  a  mind  which  has  been 
fevered  by  violent  and  distressful  excitement.  They  thrust 
themselves  forward  with  a  ghastly  and  unendurable  distinct- 
ness,  as  if  they  would  compel  the  sufferer  to  count,  or  meas- 
ure, or  learn  them  by  heart.  Even  to  the  mere  spectator  a 
strange  interest  exalts  the  accessories  of  a  scene  in  which  he 
bears  witness  to  human  sorrow.  There  is  not  a  single  object 
in  all  that  room — common,  modern,  vulgar  (in  the  vulgar 
sense,  as  it  may  be),  but  it  becomes  tragical,  if  rightly  read. 
That  furniture  so  carefully  painted,  even  to  the  last  vein  of 
the  rosewood — is  there  nothing  to  be  learnt  from  that  terrible 
lustre  of  it,  from  its  fatal  newness ;  nothing  there  that  has 
the  old  thoughts  of  home  upon  it,  or  that  is  ever  to  become  a 
part  of  home  ?  Those  embossed  books,  vain  and  useless, — 
they  also  new, — marked  with  no  happy  wearing  of  beloved 
leaves ;  the  torn  and  dying  bird  upon  the  floor  ;  the  gilded 
tapestry,  with  the  fowls  of  the  air  feeding  on  the  ripened 
corn  ;  the  picture  above  the  fireplace,  with  its  single  drooping 
figure—the  woman  taken  in  adultery  ;  nay,  the  very  hem  of  the 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


79 


poor  girl's  dress,  at  which  the  painter  has  labored  so  closely, 
thread  by  thread,  has  story  in  it,  if  we  think  how  soon  its 
pure  whiteness  may  be  soiled  with  dust  and  rain,  her  outcast 
feet  failing  in  the  street ;  and  the  fair  garden  flowers,  seen  in 
that  reflected  sunshine  of  the  mirror — these  also  have  their 
language — 

"  Hope  not  to  find  delight  in  us,  they  say, 
For  we  are  spotless,  Jessy — we  are  pure."  1 

I  surely  need  not  go  on.  Examine  the  whole  range  of  the 
walls  of  the  Academy, — nay,  examine  those  of  all  our  public 
and  private  galleries, — and  while  pictures  will  be  met  with  by 
the  thousand  which  literally  tempt  to  evil,  by  the  thousand 
which  are  directed  to  the  meanest  trivialities  of  incident  or 
emotion,  by  the  thousand  to  the  delicate  fancies  of  inactive 
religion,  there  will  not  be  found  one  powerful  as  this  to  meet 
full  in  the  front  the  moral  evil  of  the  age  in  which  it  is 
painted  ;  to  waken  into  mercy  the  cruel  thoughtlessness  of 
youth,  and  subdue  the  severities  of  judgment  into  the  sanctity 
of  compassion. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  "  Modern  Painters." 

Denmark  Hill. 

[From  "  The  Liverpool  Albion,11  January  11,  1858.] 

PRE- RA PIIA ELITISM  m  LIVERPOOL.'1 

I  believe  the  Liverpool  Academy  has,  in  its  decisions  of  late 
years,  given  almost  the  first  instance  on  record  of  the  entirely 
just  and  beneficial  working  of  academical  system.  Usually 

1  Shenstone :  Elegy  xxvi.  The  subject  of  the  poem  is  that  of  the 
picture  described  here.    The  girl  speaks — 

"  If  through  the  garden's  flowery  tribes  I  stray, 
Where  bloom  the  jasmines  that  could  once  allure, 
Hope  not,11  etc. 

2  The  prize  of  the  Liverpool  Academy  was  awarded  in  1858  to  Millais's 
Blind  Girl.  Popular  feeling,  however,  favored  another  picture,  the 
Waiting  for  the  Verdict  of  A.  Solomon,  and  a  good  deal  of  discussion 


80 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACB. 


such  systems  have  degenerated  into  the  application  of  formal 
rules,  or  the  giving  partial  votes,  or  the  distribution  of  a  par- 
tial  patronage  ;  hut  the  Liverpool  awards  have  indicated  at 
once  the  keen  perception  of  new  forms  of  excellence,  and  the 
frank  honesty  by  which  alone  such  new  forms  can  be  con- 
fessed and  accepted.  I  do  not,  however,  wonder  at  the  outcry. 
People  who  suppose  the  pre-Raphaelite  work  to  be  only  a  con- 
dition of  meritorious  eccentricity,  naturally  suppose,  also,  that 
the  consistent  preference  of  it  can  only  be  owing  to  clique. 
Most  people  look  upon  paintings  as  they  do  on  plants  or 
minerals,  and  think  they  ought  to  have  in  their  collections 
specimens  of  everybody's  work,  as  they  have  specimens  of  all 
earths  or  flowers.  They  have  no  conception  that  there  is  such 
a  thing  as  a  real  right  and  wrong,  a  real  bad  and  good,  in  the 
question.  However,  you  need  not,  I  think,  much  mind.  Let 
the  Academy  be  broken  up  on  the  quarrel ;  let  the  Liverpool 
people  buy  whatever  rubbish  they  have  a  mind  to ;  and 
when  they  see,  as  in  time  they  will,  that  it  is  rubbish, 
and  find,  as  find  they  will,  every  pre-Raphaelite  picture 
gradually  advance  in  influence  and  in  value,  you  will  be  ac- 
knowledged to  have  borne  a  witness  all  the  more  noble  and 
useful,  because  it  seemed  to  end  in  discomfiture ;  though  it 
will  not  end  in  discomfiture.  I  suppose  I  need  hardly  say 
anything  of  my  own  estimate  of  the  two  pictures  on  which  the 
arbitrament  has  arisen.  I  have  surely  said  often  enough,  in 
good  black  type  already,  what  I  thought  of  pre-Raphaelite 
works,  and  of  other  modern  ones.  Since  Turner's  death  I 
consider  that  any  average  work  from  the  hand  of  any  of  the 
four  leaders  of  pre-Raphaelitism  (Rossetti,  Millais,  Hunt,  John 
Lewis)  is,  singly,  worth  at  least  three  of  any  other  pictures 
whatever  by  living  artists.  John  Ruskin. 

arose  as  to  whether  the  prize  had  been  rightly  awarded.  As  one  of  the 
judges,  and  as  a  member  of  the  Academy,  Mr.  Alfred  Hunt  addressed  a 
letter  on  the  matter  to  Mr.  Ruskin,  the  main  portion  of  whose  reply  was 
sent  by  him  to  the  Liverpool  Albion  and  is  now  reprinted  here.  Mr. 
Solomon's  picture  had  been  exhibited  in  the  Royal  Academy  of  1857 
(No.  562),  and  is  mentioned  in  Mr.  Ruskin's  Notes  to  the  pictures  of 
that  year  (p.  32). 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


81 


[From  '*  The  Witness"  (Edinburgh),  March  27,  1858.] 

GENERALIZATION  AND  THE  SCOTCH  PRE-RAPHAELITES. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  ^  Witness." 

I  was  very  glad  to  see  that  good  and  firm  defence  of  the 
pre-Raphaelite  Brothers  in  the  Witness  1  the  other  day  ;  only 
my  dear  Editor,  it  appears  to  me  that  you  take  too  much 
trouble  in  the  matter.  Such  a  lovely  picture  as  that  of  Wal- 
ler Paton's  must  either  speak  for  itself,  or  nobody  can  speak 
for  it.  If  you  Scotch  people  don't  know  a  bit  of  your  own 
country  when  you  see  it,  who  is  to  help  you  to  know  it  ?  If, 
in  that  mighty  wise  town  of  Edinburgh,  everybody  still  likes 
flourishes  of  brush  better  than  ferns,  and  dots  of  paint  better 
than  birch  leaves,  surely  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  leave 
them  in  quietude  of  devotion  to  dot  and  faith  in  flourish.  At 
least  I  can  see  no  other  way  of  dealing.  All  those  platitudes 
from  the  Scotsman,  which  you  took  the  pains  to  answer,  have 
been  answered  ten  thousand  times  already,  without  the  small- 
est effect — the  kind  of  people  who  utter  them  being  always 
too  misty  in  their  notions  ever  to  feel  or  catch  an  answer. 
You  may  as  well  speak  to  the  air,  or  rather  to  a  Scotch  misfc. 
The  oddest  part  of  the  business  is,  that  all  those  wretched 
fallacies  about  generalization  might  be  quashed  or  crushed 
in  an  instant,  by  reference  to  any  given  picture  of  any  great 
master  who  ever  lived.  There  never  was  anybody  who  gen- 
eralized, since  paint  was  first  ground,  except  Opie,  and  Ben- 
jamin "West,  and  Fuseli,  and  one  or  two  other  such  modern 
stars — in  their  own  estimates, — night-lights,  in  fact,  extin- 
guishing themselves,  not  odoriferously  at  daybreak,  in  a  sput- 
ter in  the  saucer.  Titian, .  Giorgione,  Veronese,  Tintoret, 
Raphael,  Leonardo,  Correggio — never  any  of  them  dreamt  of 

1  The  defence  was  made  in  a  second  notice  (March  6,  1858)  of  the 
Exhibition  of  the  Royal  Scottish  Academy,  then  open  to  the  public. 
The  picture  of  Mr.  Waller  Paton  (now  R.  S.  A.)  alluded  to  here  was  en- 
titled Wild  Water  Inveruglass  (161);  he  also  exhibited  one  of  Arrochar 
Road,  Tarbet  (314).  The  platitudes  of  the  Scotsman  against  the  pre- 
Raphaelites  were  contained  in  its  second  notice  of  the  Exhibition  (Feb* 
ruary  20,  1858,. 


82 


ARROWS  OF  TUB  GRACE. 


generalization,  and  would  have  rejected  the  dream  as  having 
come  by  the  horn  gate,1  if  they  had.  The  only  difference  be- 
tween them  and  the  pre-Raphaelites  is,  that  the  latter  love 
nature  better,  and  don't  yet  know  their  artist's  business  so 
well,  having  everything  to  find  out  for  themselves  athwart 
all  sorts  of  contradiction,  poor  fellows  ;  so  they  are  apt  to  put 
too  much  into  their  pictures — for  love's  sake,  and  then  not  to 
bring  this  much  into  perfect  harmony  ;  not  yet  being  able  to 
bridle  their  thoughts  entirely  with  the  master's  hand.  I  don't 
say  therefore — I  never  have  said — that  their  pictures  are  fault- 
less— many  of  them  have  gross  faults  ;  but  the  modern  pict- 
ures of  the  generalist  school,  which  are  opposed  to  them, 
have  nothing  else  but  faults :  they  are  not  pictures  at  all,  but 
pure  daubs  and  perfect  blunders  ;  nay,  they  have  never  had 
aim  enough  to  be  called  anything  so  honorable  as  blunders  ; 
they  are  mere  emptinesses  and  idlenesses — thistledown  with- 
out seeds,  and  bubbles  without  color  ;  whereas  the  worst  pre- 
Raphaelite  picture  has  something  in  it ;  and  the  great  ones, 
such  as  Windus's  "Burd  Helen,"  2  will  hold  their  own  with 
the  most  noble  pictures  of  all  time. 

Always  faithfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


1  There  must  be  some  error  here,  as  it  is  the  true  dreams  that  come 
through  the  horn  gate,  while  the  fruitless  ones  pass  through  the  gate  of 
ivory.    The  allusion  is  to  Homer  (Odyssey,  xix.  562). 

2  In  illustration  of  the  old  Scottish  ballad  of  u  Burd  Helen,"  who, 
fearing  her  lover's  desertion,  followed  him,  dressed  as  a  foot-page, 
through  flood,  if  not  through  fire — 

"Lord  John  he  rode,  Burd  Helen  ran, 
The  live-lang  sumer's  day, 
Until  they  cam'  to  Clyde's  Water, 
Was  filled  frae  bank  to  brae. 

M  4  Sce'st  thou  yon  water,  Helen,'  quoth  he, 
4  That  flows  frae  bank  to  brim  ?  1 
4 1  trust  to  God,  Lord  John,'  she  said, 
4  You  ne'er  will  see  me  swim.'  V 

This  picture  (No.  141  in  the  Edinburgh  Exhibition  of  1858)  was  first 
exhibited  in  the  Koyal  Academy  of  1856.  In  the  postscript  to  his 
Academy  Notes  of  that  year,  Mr,  Ruskin,  after  commenting  on  the 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


83 


By  the  way,  what  ails  you  at  our  pre-Kaphaelite  Brothers' 
conceits  ?  Windus's  heart's-ease  might  have  been  a  better 
conceit,  I  grant  you  ; 1  but  for  the  conceits  themselves,  as  such, 
I  always  enjoy  them  particularly  ;  and  I  don't  understand  why 
I  shouldn't.    What's  wrong  in  them  ? 


"  crying  error  of  putting  it  nearly  out  of  sight,"  so  that  he  had  at  first 
hardly  noticed  it,  estimates  this  picture  as  second  only  to  the  Autumn 
Leaves  of  Mr.  Millais  in  that  exhibition.  The  following  is  a  portion  of 
his  comment  on  it :  "I  see  just  enough  of  the  figures  to  make  me  sure 
that  the  work  is  thoughtful  and  intense  in  the  highest  degree.  The 
pressure  of  the  girl's  hand  on  her  side  ;  her  wild,  calm,  firm,  desolate  look 
at  the  stream — she  not  raising  her  eyes  as  she  makes  her  appeal,  for  fear 
of  the  greater  mercilessness  in  the  human  look  than  in  the  glaze  of  the 
gliding  water — the  just  choice  of  the  type  of  the  rider's  cruel  face,  and 
of  the  scene  itself — so  terrible  in  haggardness  of  rattling  stones  and 
ragged  heath, — are  all  marks  of  the  action  of  the  very  grandest  imag- 
inative power,  shortened  only  of  hold  upon  our  feelings,  because  deal- 
ing with  a  subject  too  fearful  to  be  for  a  moment  believed  true.'' 

The  picture  was  originally  purchased  by  Mr.  John  Miller,  of  Liver- 
pool ;  at  the  sale  of  whose  collection  by  Christie  and  Manson,  two  years 
later,  in  1858,  it  fetched  the  price  of  two  hundred  guineas.  At  the 
same  sale  the  Blind  Girl,  alluded  to  in  the  previous  letter,  was  sold  for 
three  hundred. 

For  the  poem  illustrated  by  the  picture,  see  Aytoun's  Ballads  of  Scot- 
land, i.  239,  where  a  slightly  different  version  of  it  is  given :  it  may  also 
be  found  in  Percy's  Reliques  (vol.  iii.  p.  59),  under  the  title  of  Child 
Waters.  Other  versions  of  this  ballad,  and  other  ballads  of  the  same 
name,  and  probable  origin  may  be  found  in  Jameson's  collection,  vol.  i. 
p.  117,  vol.  ii.  p.  376,  in  Buchan's  Ancient  Ballads  of  the  North,  ii.  29 
(1879  ed.)  and  in  Four  Books  of  Scottish  Ballads,  Edin.,  1868,  Bk.  ii.  p. 
21,  where  it  is  well  noted  that  "  Burd  Helen  "  corresponds  to  the  Proud 
Elise"  of  northern  minstrels,  u  La  Prude  Dame  Elise  "  of  the  French, 
and  the  "  Gentle  Lady  Elise  "  of  the  English— (Burd,  Prud,  Preux).  It 
is  also  possible  that  it  is  a  corruption  of  Burdalayn,  or  Burdalane,  mean- 
ing an  only  child,  a  maiden,  etc. 

1  The  Witness  had  objected  to  the  "  astonishing  fondness  "  of  the  pre- 
Baphaelite  school  for  "  conceits,"  instancing  as  typically  far-fetched 
that  in  the  picture  of  u  Burd  Helen,''  where  the  Lord  John  was  repre- 
sented   pulling  to  pieces  a  hearts-ease,"  as  he  crosses  the  stream. 


84 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


IV. — TURNER. 

[From  "The  Times,"  October  28,  1858.] 

THE  TURNER  BEQUEST. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times:' 

Sir  :  As  active  measures  are  being  now  1  taken  to  give  the 
public  access  to  the  pictures  and  drawings  left  by  the  late  Mr. 
Turner,  you  will  perhaps  allow  me  space  in  your  columns  for 
a  few  words  respecting  them. 

I  was  appointed  by  Mr.  Turner  one  of  his  executors.  I 
examined  the  will,  and  the  state  of  the  property  needing 
administration,  and,  finding  that  the  questions  arising  out  of 
the  obscurity  of  the  one  and  the  disorder  of  the  other  would 
be  numerous  and  would  involve  a  kind  of  business  in  which  I 
had  no  skill  or  knowledge,  I  resigned  the  office  ;  but  in  the 
course  of  the  inquiry  I  catalogued  the  most  interesting  of  the 
drawings  which  are  now  national  property,  and  respecting 
these  the  public  will,  I  think,  be  glad  of  more  definite  infor- 
mation than  they  at  present  possess.  They  are  referable 
mainly  to  three  classes. 

1.  Finished  water-color  drawings. 

2.  Studies  from  nature,  or  first  thoughts  for  pictures ;  in 
color. 

3.  Sketches  in  pencil  or  pen  and  ink. 

The  drawings  belonging  to  the  two  latter  classes  are  in 
various  stages  of  completion,  and  would  contain,  if  rightly  ar- 
ranged, a  perfect  record  of  the  movements  of  the  masters 
mind  during  his  whole  life.  Many  of  them  were  so  confused 
among  prints  and  waste-paper  that  I  could  neither  collect  nor 
catalogue  them  all  in  the  time  I  had  at  my  disposal ;  some 
portfolios  I  was  not  able  even  to  open.    The  following  state- 

1  The  first  exhibition  of  Turner's  pictures  after  his  death  was  opened 
at  Marlborough  House  early  in  November,  1856,  seven  months  subse- 
quent to  the  final  decision  as  to  the  proper  distribution  of  the  property, 
which  was  the  subject  of  Turner's  will. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


85 


ment,  therefore,  omits  mention  of  many,  and  I  believe  even  of 
some  large  water-color  drawings.  There  are  in  the  first  class 
forty-five  drawings  of  the  "  Eivers  of  France ; "  fifty-seven 
illustrating  Kogers'  Poems ;  twenty-three  of  the  "  Eiver 
Scenery  "  and  "  Harbors  of  England  ; "  four  marine  vignettes  ; 
five  middle-sized  drawings  (including  the  beautiful  "Ivy 
Bridge ") ;  and  a  drawing,  some  three  feet  by  two,  finished 
with  exquisite  care,  of  a  scene  in  the  Val  d'Aosta  ;  total,  135. 

It  would  occupy  too  much  of  your  space  if  I  were  to  specify 
all  the  various  kinds  of  studies  forming  the  second  class. 
Many  are  far  carried,  and  are,  to  my  mind,  more  precious  and 
lovely  than  any  finished  drawings  ;  respecting  some,  there 
may  be  question  whether  Turner  regarded  them  as  finished 
or  not.  The  larger  number  are  light  sketches,  valuable  only 
to  artists,  or  to  those  interested  in  the  processes  of  Turner's 
mind  and  hand.  The  total  number  of  those  which  I  cata- 
logued as  important  is  1,757. 

The  sketches  of  the  third  class  are  usually  more  elaborate 
than  the  colored  ones.  They  consist  of  studies  from  nature, 
or  for  composition,  in  firm  outline,  usually  on  gray  paper, 
heightened  with  white.  They  include,  among  other  subjects, 
more  or  less  complete,  fifty  of  the  original  drawings  for  the 
Liber  Studiorum,  and  many  of  the  others  are  of  large  folio 
size.  The  total  of  those  I  consider  important  is  1,322.  Now 
the  value  of  these  sketches  to  the  public  consist  greatly,  first, 
in  the  preservation  of  each,  as  far  as  possible,  in  the  state  in 
which  Turner  left  it ;  secondly,  in  their  careful  arrangement 
and  explanation  ;  thirdly,  in  convenience  of  general  access  to 
them.    Permit  me  a  word  on  each  of  these  heads. 

Turner  was  in  the  habit  of  using  unusual  vehicles,  and  in 
the  colored  studies  many  hues  are  wrought  out  by  singular 
means  and  with  singular  delicacy — nearly  always  in  textures 
which  the  slightest  damp  (to  which  the  drawings  would  nec- 
essarily be  subjected  in  the  process  of  mounting)  would  as- 
suredly alter.  I  have  made  many  experiments  in  mounting, 
putting  colored  drawings,  of  which  I  had  previously  examined 
the  tones,  into  the  hands  of  the  best  mounters,  and  I  have 
never  yet  had  a  drawing  returned  to  me  without  alteration. 


8G 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CRACK 


The  vast  mass  of  these  sketches,  and  the  comparative  slight- 
ness  of  many,  would  but  too  probably  induce  a  carelessness 
and  generalization  in  the  treatment  they  might  have  to  un- 
dergo still  more  fatally  detrimental  to  them. 

Secondly,  a  large  number  are  without  names,  and  so  slight 
that  it  requires  careful  examination  and  somewhat  extended 
acquaintance  with  Turner's  works  to  ascertain  their  intention. 
The  sketches  of  this  class  are  nearly  valueless,  till  their  mean- 
ing is  deciphered,  but  of  great  interest  when  seen  in  their 
proper  connection.  Thus  there  are  three  progressive  studies 
for  one  vignette  in  Rogers  Italy 1  (Hannibal  passing  the  Alps), 
which  I  extricated  from  three  several  heaps  of  other  mountain 
sketches  with  which  they  had  no  connection.  Thirdly,  a  large 
number  of  the  drawings  are  executed  with  body  color,  the 
bloom  of  which  any  friction  or  handling  would  in  a  short 
period  destroy.  Their  delicate  tones  of  color  would  be  equally 
destroyed  by  continuous  exposure  to  the  light  or  to  smoke 
and  dust. 

Drawings  of  a  valuable  character,  when  thus  destructible, 
are  in  European  museums  hardly  accessible  to  the  general 
public.  But  there  is  no  need  for  this  seclusion.  They  should 
be  inclosed  each  in  a  light  wooden  frame,  under  a  glass  the 
surface  of  which  a  raised  mount  should  prevent  them  from 
touching.  These  frames  should  slide  into  cases  containing 
about  twelve  drawings  each,  which  would  be  portable  to  any 
part  of  the  room  where  they  were  to  be  seen.  I  have  long 
kept  my  own  smaller  Turner  drawings  in  this  manner ;  fifteen 
frames  going  into  the  depth  of  about  a  foot.  Men  are  usually 
accused  of  "bad  taste,"  if  they  express  any  conviction  of  their 
own  ability  to  execute  any  given  work.  But  it  would  perhaps 
be  better  if  in  people's  sayings  in  general,  whether  concerning 
others  or  themselves,  there  were  less  taste,  and  more  truth  ; 
and  I  think  it,  under  the  circumstances,  my  duty  to  state  that 
I  believe  none  would  treat  these  drawings  with  more  scrupu- 
lous care,  or  arrange  them  with  greater  patience,  than  I  should 
myself;  that  I  am  ready  to  undertake  the  task,  and  enter  upon 


See  Rogers'  Italy,  p.  29. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


87 


it  instantly ;  that  I  will  furnish,  in  order  to  prove  the  working 
of  the  system  proposed,  a  hundred  of  the  frames,  with  their 
cases,  at  my  own  cost ;  and  that  within  six  weeks  of  the  day 
on  which  I  am  permitted  to  begin  work  (illness  or  accident 
not  interfering),  I  will  have  the  hundred  drawings  arranged, 
framed,  accompanied  by  a  printed  explanatory  catalogue,  and 
ready  for  public  inspection.  It  would  then  be  in  the  power 
of  the  commissioners  intrusted  with  the  administration  of  this 
portion  of  the  national  property  to  decide  if  any,  or  how 
man}'  more  of  the  sketches,  should  be  exhibited  in  the  same 
manner,  as  a  large  mass  of  the  less  interesting  ones  might  be 
kept  as  the  drawings  are  at  the  British  Museum,  and  shown 
only  on  special  inquiry. 
\  I  will  only  undertake  this  task  on  condition  of  the  entire 
management  of  the  drawings,  in  every  particular,  being  in- 
trusted to  me  ;  but  I  should  ask  the  advice  of  Mr.  Carpenter, 
of  the  British  Museum,1  on  all  doubtful  points,  and  intrust 
any  necessary  operations  only  to  the  person  who  mounts  the 
drawings  for  the  British  Museum. 

I  make  this  offer 2  in  your  columns  rather  than  privately, 

1  William  Hookham  Carpenter,  for  many  years  Keeper  of  the  prints 
and  drawings  at  the  British  Museum.    He  died  in  1866. 

2  Mr.  Ruskin's  offer  was  accepted,  and  he  eventually  arranged  the 
drawings,  and,  in  particular,  the  four  hundred  now  exhibited  in  one  of 
the  lower  rooms  of  the  National  Gallery,  and  contained  in  the  kind  of 
cases  above  proposed,  presented  by  Mr.  Ruskin  to  the  Gallery.  Mr. 
Buskin  also  printed,  as  promised,  a  descriptive  and  explanatory  cata- 
logue of  a  hundred  of  these  four  hundred  drawings.  (Catalogue  of  the 
Turner  Sketches  in  the  National  Gallery.  For  private  circulation. 
Part  I.  1857. — Only  one  hundred  copies  printed,  and  no  further  parts 
issued.) 

Writing  (1858)  to  Mr.  Norton  of  his  whole  work  in  arranging  the 
Turner  drawings,  Mr.  Ruskin  said:  "To  show  yorx  a  little  what  my 
work  has  been,  I  have  fac-similed  for  you,  as  nearly  as  I  could,  one  of 
the  nineteen  thousand  sketches  (comprised  in  the  Turner  bequest).  It, 
like  most  of  them,  is  not  a  sketch,  but  a  group  of  sketches,  made  on 
both  sides  of  the  leaf  of  the  note-book.  The  note-books  vary  in  contents 
from  sixty  to  ninety  leaves  :  there  are  about  two  hundred  books  of  the 
kind — three  hundred  and  odd  note -books  in  all ;  and  each  leaf  has  on 
an  average  this  quantity  of  work,  a  great  many  leaves  being  slighter- 


88 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


first,  because  I  wish  it  to  be  clearly  known  to  the  public ;  and 
also  because  I  have  no  time  to  make  representations  in  official 
ways,  the  very  hours  which  I  could  give  to  the  work  needing 
to  be  redeemed  by  allowing  none  to  be  wasted  in  formalities 
I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  RuSKIN, 

Denmark  Hill,  Oct.  27. 


[From  44  The  Times,"  July  9,  1857,] 

THE  TURNER  BEQUEST  AND  THE  NATIONAL  GALLERY. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times:'' 

Sir  : — I  am  sorry  that  accident  has  prevented  my  seeing  the 
debate  of  Friday  last 1  on  the  vote  for  the  National  Gallery 
until  to-day.  Will  you  permit  me,  thus  late,  to  correct  the 
statement  made  by  Lord  Elcho,  that  I  offered  to  arrange  Tur- 
ner's pictures,  or  could  have  done  so  as  well  as  Mr.  Wornum  ? 2 
I  only  offered  to  arrange  the  sketches,  and  that  I  am  doing  ; 
but  I  never  would  have  undertaken  the  pictures,  "which  were 
in  such  a  state  of  decay  that  I  had  given  up  many  for  lost  | 
while,  also,  most  of  them  belonged  to  periods  of  Turner's  work 
with  which  I  was  little  acquainted.  Mr.  Wornum's  patience 
and  carefulness  of  research  in  discovering  their  subjects,  dates 
of  exhibition,  and  other  points  of  interest  connected  with 
them,  have  been  of  the  greatest  service  ;  and  it  will  be  long 


some  blank,  but  a  great  many  also  elaborate  in  the  highest  degree,  some 
containing  ten  exquisite  compositions  on  each  side  of  the  leaf,  thus  (see 
facsimile),  each  no  bigger  than  this — and  Wifch  about  that  quantity  o( 
work  in  each,  but  every  touch  of  it  inestimable,  done  with  his  wholo 
soul  in  it.  Generally  the  slighter  sketches  are  written  over  it  every-* 
where,  as  in  the  example  inclosed,  every  incident  being  noted  that  was 
going  on  at  the  moment  of  the  sketch." — List  of  Turner's  Drawings 
shown  in  connection  with  Mr.  Norton's  Lectures.  Boston  :  1874.  p.  11. 
The  facsimile  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Norton  is  reproduced  opposite. 

1  July  3,  1857,  upon  the* vote  of  £23,165  for  the  National  Gallery. 

2  The  late  Mr.  Ralph  Nicholson  Wornum,  who  succeeded  Mr.  Uwins 
as  Keeper  of  the  National  Gallery  in  1855,  and  retained  that  office  till 
his  death  in  1078. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


89 


90 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


before  the  labor  and  judgment  which  he  has  shown  in  compil- 
ing, not  only  this,  but  all  the  various  catalogues  now  used  by 
the  public  at  our  galleries,  will  be  at  all  justly  appreciated.  I 
find  more  real,  serviceable,  and  trustworthy  facts  in  one  of 
these  catalogues,  than  in  half  a  dozen  of  the  common  collec- 
tions of  lives  of  painters. 

Permit  me  to  add  further,  that  during  long  residence  in 
Venice  I  have  carefully  examined  the  Paul  Veronese  lately 
purchased  by  the  Government.1  "When  I  last  saw  it,  it  was 
simply  the  best  Veronese  in  Italy,  if  not  in  Europe  (the 
"  Marriage  in  Cana  "  of  the  Louvre  is  larger  and  more  magnifi- 
cent, but  not  so  perfect  in  finish) ;  and,  for  my  own  part,  I 
should  think  no  price  too  large  for  it ;  but  putting  my  own 
deep  reverence  for  the  painter  wholly  out  of  the  question,  and 
considering  the  matter  as  it  will  appear  to  the  most  persons  at 
all  acquainted  with  the  real  character  and  range  of  Venetian 
work,  I  believe  the  market  value  of  the  picture  ought  to  be 
estimated  at  perhaps  one-third  more  than  the  Government 
have  paid  for  it.  Without  doubt  the  price  of  the  Murillo 
lately  purchased  at  Paris  was  much  enhanced  by  accidental 
competition  ;  under  ordinary  circumstances,  and  putting  both 
the  pictures  to  a  fair  trial  of  market  value,  I  believe  the  Ver- 


1  The  Family  of  Darius  at  the  feet  of  Alexander  after  the  Battle  of 
Issus,  purchased  at  Venice  from  the  Pisani  collection  in  1857.  Lord 
Elcho  had  complained  in  the  course  of  the  debate  that  the  price,  £18,- 
650,  paid  for  this  picture,  had  been  excessive  ;  and  in  reply  allusion 
was  made  to  the  still  higher  price  (£23,000)  paid  for  the  Immaculate 
Conception  of  Murillo,  purchased  for  the  Louvre  by  Napoleon  III.,  in 
1852,  from  the  collection  of  Marshal  Soult.  Of  the  great  Veronese,  Mr. 
Ruskin  also  wrote  thus:  ' 'It  at  once,  to  my  mind,  raises  our  National 
Gallery  from  a  second-rate  to  a  first-rate  collection.  I  have  always  loved 
the  master,  and  given  much  time  to  the  study  of  his  works,  but  this  is 
the  best  I  have  ever  seen."  (Turner  Notes,  1857,  ed.  v.  p.  89,  note.) 
So  again  before  the  National  Gallery  Commission,  earlier  in  the  same 
year,  he  had  said,  "  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  (of  its  rumored  purchase).  If 
it  is  confirmed,  nothing  will  have  given  me  such  pleasure  for  a  long 
time.  I  think  it  is  the  most  precious  Paul  Veronese  in  the  world,  as 
far  as  the  completeness  of  the  picture  goes,  and  quite  a  priceless  pict- 
ure." 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


91 


onese  to  be  worth  at  least  double  the  Murillo  ;  in  an  artistical 
point  of  view,  the  latter  picture  could  not  be  put  in  any  kind 
of  comparison  whatever  with  the  Veronese. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Oxford,  July  7. 


[From  "  The  Literary  Gazette,"  November  13,  1858 — partly  reprinted  in  "  The  Tw« 
Paths,"  Appendix  iv.] 

THE  TURNER  SKETCHES  AND  DRAWINGS.1 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Literary  Gazette:' 

Sir  :  I  do  not  think  it  generally  necessary  to  answer  criti- 
cism ;  yet  as  yours  is  the  first  sufficient  notice  which  has  been 
taken  of  the  important  collection  of  sketches  at  Marlborough 
House,  and  as  your  strictures  on  the  arrangement  proposed 
for  the  body  of  the  collection,  as  well  as  on  some  statements 
in  my  catalogue,  are  made  with  such  candor  and  good  feeling, 
will  you  allow  me  to  offer  one  or  two  observations  in  reply  to 
them  ?  The  mode  of  arrangement  to  which  you  refer  as  de- 
termined on  by  the  trustees  has  been  adopted,  not  to  discour- 
age the  study  of  the  drawings  by  the  public,  but  to  put  all 
more  completely  at  their  service.  Drawings  so  small  in  size 
and  so  delicate  in  execution  cannot  be  seen,  far  less  copied, 
when  hung  on  walls.  As  now  arranged,  they  can  be  put 
into  the  hands  of  each  visitor,  or  student,  as  a  book  is  into 
those  of  a  reader ;  he  may  examine  them  in  any  light,  or  in 
any  position,  and  copy  them  at  his  ease.  The  students  who 
work  from  drawings  exhibited  on  walls  will,  I  am  sure,  bear 
willing  witness  to  the  greater  convenience  of  the  new  system, 

1  Tlie  present  letter  was  written  in  reply  to  a  criticism,  contained  in 
the  Literary  Gazette  of  November  6,  1858,  on  Mr.  Ruskin's  Catalogue 
of  the  Turner  Sketches  and  Drawings  exhibited  at  Marlborough  House 
1857-8.  The  subjects  of  complaint  made  by  the  Gazette  sufficiently  ap- 
pear from  this  letter.  They  were,  briefly,  first,  the  mode  of  exhibition 
of  the  Turner  Drawings  proposed  by  Mr.  Ruskin  in  his  official  report  al- 
already  alluded  to,  pp.  84  and  88.  note  ;  and,  secondly,  two  alleged 
hyperboles  and  one  omission  in  the  Catalogue  itself. 


92 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


Four  hundred  drawings  are  already  thus  arranged  for  public 
use  ;  framed,  and  disposed  in  eighty  portable  boxes,  each  con- 
taining five  sketches,  so  that  eighty  students  might  at  once  be 
supplied  with  five  drawings  apiece.  The  oil  paintings  at  Marl- 
borough House,  comprising  as  they  do  the  most  splendid 
works  which  Turner  ever  produced,  and  the  339  drawings  ex- 
hibited beside  them,  are  surely  enough  for  the  amusement  of 
loungers — for  do  you  consider  as  anything  better  than  loung- 
ers those  persons  who  do  not  care  enough  for  the  Turner 
drawings  to  be  at  the  trouble  of  applying  for  a  ticket  of  ad- 
mission, and  entering  their  names  in  a  book — that  is  to  say, 
who  will  not,  to  obtain  the  privilege  of  quiet  study  of  perfect 
art,  take,  once  for  all,  as  much  trouble  as  would  be  necessary 
to  register  a  letter,  or  book,  or  parcel  ? 

I  entirely  wTaive  for  the  moment  the  question  of  exposure 
to  light.  I  put  the  whole  issue  on  the  ground  of  greatest 
public  convenience.  I  believe  it  to  be  better  for  the  public  to 
have  two  collections  of  Turner's  drawings  than  one  ;  nay,  it 
seems  to  me  just  the  perfection  of  all  privilege  to  have  one 
gallery  for  quiet,  another  for  disquiet  ;  one  into  w7hich  the 
curious,  idle,  or  speculative  may  crowd  on  wet  or  weary  days, 
and  another  in  which  people  desirous  of  either  thinking  or 
working  seriously  may  always  find  peace,  light,  and  elbow- 
room.  I  believe,  therefore,  that  the  present  disposition  of 
these  drawings  will  be  at  once  the  most  convenient  and  the 
most  just,  even  supposing  that  the  finest  works  of  Turner 
wTouicl  not  be  injured  by  constant  exposure.  But  that  they 
would  be  so  admits  of  no  debate.  It  is  not  on  my  judgment 
nor  on  any  other  unsupported  ojDmion,  that  the  trustees  have 
acted,  but  in  consideration  of  facts  now  universally  admitted 
by  persons  who  have  charge  of  drawings.  You  will  find  that 
the  officers  both  of  the  Louvre  and  of  the  British  Museum  re- 
fuse to  expose  their  best  drawings  or  missal-pages  to  light,  in 
consequence  of  ascertained  damage  received  by  such  drawings 
as  have  been  already  exposed  ;  and  among  the  works  of  Tur- 
ner I  am  prepared  to  name  an  example  in  which,  the  frame 
having  protected  a  portion  while  the  rest  was  exposed,  the 
covered  portion  is  still  rich  and  lovely  in  colors,  while  the 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


93 


exposed  spaces  are  reduced  in  some  parts  nearly  to  white 
paper,  and  the  color  in  general  to  a  dull  brown. 

You  allude  to  the  contrary  chance  that  some  hues  may  be 
injured  by  darkness.  I  believe  that  some  colors  are  indeed 
liable  to  darken  in  perpetual  shade,  but  not  while  occasionally 
exposed  to  moderate  light,  as  these  drawings  will  be  in  daily 
Use  ;  nor  is  any  liability  to  injury,  even  by  perpetual  shade,  as 
yet  demonstrable  with  respect  to  the  Turner  drawings  ;  on  the 
contrary,  those  which  now  form  the  great  body  of  the  national 
collection  were  never  out  of  Turner's  house  until  his  death, 
and  were  all  kept  by  him  in  tight  bundles  or  in  clasped  books  ; 
and  all  the  drawings  so  kept  are  in  magnificent  preservation, 
appearing  as  if  they  had  j  ust  been  executed,  while  every  one  of 
those  which  have  been  in  the  possession  of  purchasers  and 
exposed  in  frames  are  now  faded  in  proportion  to  the  time  and 
degree  of  their  exposure  ;  the  lighter  hues  disappearing,  espe- 
cially from  the  skies,  so  as  sometimes  to  leave  hardly  a  trace 
of  the  cloud-forms.  For  instance,  the  great  Yorkshire  series 
is,  generally  speaking,  merely  the  wreck  of  what  it  once  was.* 
That  water-colors  are  not  injured  by  darkness  is  also  suffi- 
ciently proved  by  the  exquisite  preservation  of  missal  paintings, 
when  the  books  containing  them  have  been  little  used.  Ob- 
serve, then,  you  have  simply  this  question  to  put  to  the  public : 
"Will  you  have  your  Turner  drawings  to  look  at  when  you 
are  at  leisure,  in  a  comfortable  room,  under  such  limitations 
as  will  preserve  them  to  you  forever,  or  will  you  make  an 
amusing  exhibition  of  them  (if  amusing,  which  I  doubt)  for 
children  and  nursery-maids  ;  dry  your  wet  coats  by  them,  and 
shake  off  the  dust  from  your  feet  upon  them,  for  a  score  or 
two  of  years,  and  then  send  them  to  the  waste-paper  mer- 
chant ?  "  That  is  the  simple  question  ;  answer  it,  for  the 
public,  as  you  think  best. 

Permit  me  to  observe  farther,  that  the  small  interest  mani- 
fested in  the  existing  Turner  collection  at  Marlborough  House 
does  not  seem  to  justify  any  further  effort  at  exhibition. 


*  The  cloud-forms  which  have  disappeared  from  the  drawings 
may  be  seen  in  the  engravings. 


94 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


There  are  already  more  paintings  and  drawings  placed  in 
those  rooms  than  could  be  examined  properly  in  years  of 
labor.  But  how  placed  ?  Thrust  into  dark  corners,  nailed  on 
spare  spaces  of  shutters,  backs  of  doors,  and  tottering  elonga- 
tions of  screens ;  hung  with  their  faces  to  the  light,  or  with 
their  backs  to  the  light,  or  with  their  sides  to  the  light,  so  that 
it  " rakes"  them  (I  use  an  excellent  expression  of  Sir  Charles 
Eastlake's),  throwing  every  irregularity  of  surface  into  view  as 
if  they  were  maps  in  relief  of  hill  countries ;  hung,  in  fine,  in 
every  conceivable  mode  that  can  exhibit  their  faults,  or  con- 
ceal their  meaning,  or  degrade  their  beauty.  Neither  Mr. 
Wornum  nor  I  are  answerable  for  this  ;  we  have  both  done 
the  best  we  could  under  the  circumstances  ;  the  public  are 
answerable  for  it,  who  suffer  such  things  without  care  and 
without  remonstrance.  If  they  want  to  derive  real  advantage 
from  the  treasures  they  possess,  let  them  show  some  regard 
for  them,  and  build,  or  at  least  express  some  desire  to  get 
built,  a  proper  gallery  for  them.  I  see  no  way  at  present  out 
of  the  embarrassments  which  exist  respecting  the  disposition 
of  the  entire  national  collection  ;  but  the  Turner  gallery  was 
intended  by  Turner  himself  to  be  a  distinct  one,  and  there  is 
no  reason  why  a  noble  building  should  not  be  at  once  pro- 
vided for  it.  Place  the  oil  pictures  now  at  Marlborough 
House  in  beautiful  rooms,  each  in  a  light  fit  and  sufficient  for 
it,  and  all  on  a  level  with  the  eye  ;  range  them  in  chronologi- 
cal order  ;  place  the  sketches  at  present  exhibited,  also  in 
chronological  order,  in  a  lateral  gallery  ;  let  illustrative  en- 
gravings and  explanations  be  put  in  cases  near  them ;  furnish 
the  room  richly  and  gracefully,  as  the  Louvre  is  furnished, 
and  1  do  not  think  the  public  would  any  longer  complain  of 
not  having  enough  to  amuse  them  on  rainy  days. 

That  wre  ought  to  do  as  much  for  our  whole  national  col- 
lection is  as  certain  as  that  we  shall  not  do  it  for  many  a  year 
to  come,  nor  until  wre  have  wasted  twice  as  much  money  as 
would  do  it  nobly  in  vain  experiments  on  a  mean  scale.  I 
have  no  immediate  hope  in  this  matter,  else  I  might  perhaps 
ask  you  to  let  me  occupy  your  columns  with  some  repetition, 
in  other  words  (such  repetition  being  apparently  always 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


95 


needed  in  these  talking  days),  of  what  I  have  already  stated  in 
the  Appendix  to  my  Notes  on  the  oil-pictures  1  at  Marlborough 
House.  But  I  will  only,  being  as  I  say  hopeless  in  the  matter, 
ask  you  for  room  for  a  single  sentence. 

a  If  ever  we  come  to  understand  that  the  function  of  a  pict- 
ure, after  all,  with  respect  to  mankind,  is  not  merely  to  be 
bought,  but  to  be  seen,  it  will  follow  that  a  picture  which  de- 
serves a  price  deserves  a  place  ;  and  that  all  paintings  which 
are  worth  keeping,  are  worth,  also,  the  rent  of  so  much  wall 
as  shall  be  necessary  to  show  them  to  the  best  advantage,  and 
in  the  least  fatiguing  way  for  the  spectator. 

"  It  would  be  interesting  if  we  could  obtain  a  return  of  the 
sum  which  the  English  nation  pays  annually  for  park  walls  to 
inclose  game,  stable  walls  to  separate  horses,  and  garden  walls 
to  ripen  peaches  ;  and  if  we  could  compare  this  ascertained 
sum  with  what  it  pays  for  walls  to  show  its  art  upon." 

I  ask  you  to  reprint  this,  because  the  fact  is  that  if  either 
Mr.  Wornum  at  the  National  Gallery,  or  Mr.  Carpenter  at  the 
British  Museum,  had  as  much  well-lighted  wall  at  their  dis- 
posal as  most  gentlemen's  gardeners  have,  they  could  each 
furnish  the  public  with  art  enough  to  keep  them  gazing  from 
one  year's  end  to  another's.  Mr.  Carpenter  has  already  made 
a  gallant  effort  with  some  screens  in  a  dark  room  ;  but  in  the 
National  Gallery,  whatever  mode  of  exhibition  may -be  deter- 
mined upon  for  the  four  hundred  framed  drawings,  the  great 
mass  of  the  Turner  sketches  (about  fifteen  thousand,  without 
counting  mere  color  memoranda)  must  lie  packed  in  parcels 
in  tin  cases,  simply  for  w7ant  of  room  to  show  them.  It  is  true 
that  many  of  these  are  quite  slight,  and  would  be  interesting 
to  none  but  artists.  There  are,  however,  upwards  of  five 
thousand  sketches  in  pencil  outline,*  which  are  just  as  inter- 

1  "  Notes  on  the  oil  pictures,"  to  be  distinguished  from  the  later  cata- 
logue of  the  Turner  sketches  and  drawings  with  which  this  letter  di- 
rectly deals.    See  ante,  p.  91,  note. 


*  By  the  way,  you  really  ought  to  have  given  me  some  credit 
for  the  swivel  frames  in  the  desks  of  Marlborough  House, 


96 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CI1A0E. 


esting  as  those  now  exhibited  at  Marlborough  House ;  an<3 
which  might  be  constantly  exhibited,  like  those,  without  any 
harm,  if  there  were  only  walls  to  put  them  on. 

I  have  already  occupied  much  of  your  space.  I  do  not  say 
too  much,  considering  the  importance  of  the  subject,  but 2  I 
must  [with  more  diffidence]  ask  you  to  allow  me  yet  leave  to 
reply  to  the  objections  you  make  to  two  statements  [and  to 
one  omission]  in  my  Catalogue,  as  those  objections  would 
otherwise  diminish  its  usefulness.  I  have  asserted  that  in  a 
given  drawing  (named  as  one  of  the  chief  in  the  series), 
Turner's  pencil  did  not  move  over  the  thousandth  of  an  inch 
without  meaning  ;  and  you  charge  this  expression  with  ex- 
travagant hyperbole.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  much  within  the 
truth,  being  merely  a  mathematically  accurate  description  of 
fairly  good  execution  in  either  drawing  or  engraving.  It  is 
only  necessary  to  measure  a  piece  of  any  ordinarily  good  work 
to  ascertain  this.  Take,  for  instance,  Finden's  engraving  at 
the  180th  page  of  Rogers'  poems,3  in  which  the  face  of  the 
figure,  from  the  chin  to  the  top  of  the  brow,  occupies  just  a 
quarter  of  an  inch,  and  the  space  between  the  upper  lip  and 
chin  as  nearly  as  possible  one-seventeenth  of  an  inch.  The 
whole  mouth  occupies  one-third  of  this  space,  say,  one-fiftieth 
of  an  inch  ;  and  within  that  space  botli  the  lips  and  the  much 
more  difficult  inner  corner  of  the  mouth  are  perfectly  drawn 
and  rounded,  with  quite  successful  and  sufficiently  subtle  ex- 

which  enable  the  public,  however  rough-handed,  to  see  the 
drawings  on  both  sides  of  the  same  leaf.1 


1  The  identical  frames,  eacli  containing  examples  of  the  sketches  in 
pencil  outline  to  which  the  letter  alludes,  may  be  seen  in  the  windows 
of  the  lower  rooms  of  the  National  Gallery,  now  devoted  to  the  exhibi- 
tion of  the  Turner  drawings. 

2  The  rest  of  this  letter  may,  with  the  exception  of  its  two  last  para- 
graphs, and  the  slight  alterations  noted,  be  also  found  in  The  Two  Paths, 
Appendix  iv.,  Subtlety  of  Hand  (pp.  226-0  of  the  now,  and  pp.  263-6  of 
the  original  edition),  where  the  words  bracketed  [sic]  in  this  reprint  of 
it  are,  it  will  be  seen,  omitted. 

3  From  a  vignette  design  by  Stothard  of  a  single  figure,  to  illustrate 
the  poem  On  a  Tear.    (Hogers'  Poems,  London,  1834  ed.) 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


97 


pression.  Any  artist  will  assure  you,  that  in  order  to  draw  a 
mouth  as  well  as  this,  there  must  be  more  than  twenty  gra- 
dations of  shade  in  the  touches  ;  that  is  to  say,  in  this  case, 
gradations  changing,  with  meaning,  within  less  than  the 
thousandth  of  an  inch. 

But  this  is  mere  child's  play  compared  to  the  refinement  of 
any  first-rate  mechanical  work,  much  more  of  brush  or  pencil 
drawing  by  a  master's  hand.  In  order  at  once  to  furnish  you 
with  authoritative  evidence  on  this  point,  I  wrote  to  Mr. 
Kingsley,  tutor  of  Sidney-Sussex  College,  a  friend  to  whom  I 
always  have  recourse  when  I  want  to  be  precisely  right  in  any 
matter  ;  for  his  great  knowledge  both  of  mathematics  and  of 
natural  science  is  joined,  not  only  with  singular  powers  of 
delicate  experimental  manipulation,  but  with  a  keen  sensitive- 
ness to  beauty  in  art.  His  answer,  in  its  final  statement 
respecting  Turner's  work,  is  amazing  even  to  me  ;  and  will,  I 
should  think,  be  more  so  to  your  readers.  Observe  the  suc- 
'  cessions  of  measured  and  tested  refinement ;  here  is  No.  1 : 

"  The  finest  mechanical  work  that  I  know  of  is  that  done  by 
Nobert  in  the  way  of  ruling  lines.  I  have  a  series  of  lines 
ruled  by  him  on  glass,  giving  actual  scales  from  .000024  and 
.000016  of  an  inch,  perfectly  correct  to  these  places  of  deci- 
mals ;  [*]  and  he  has  executed  others  as  fine  as  .000012,  though 
I  do  not  know  how  far  he  could  repeat  these  last  with 
accuracy." 

This  is  No.  1,  of  precision.  Mr.  Kingsley  proceeds  to 
No.  2  : 

"  But  this  is  rude  work  compared  to  the  accuracy  necessary 
for  the  construction  of  the  object  glass  of  a  microscope  such 
as  Eosse  turns  out." 

I  am  sorry  to  omit  the  explanation  which  follows  of  the 
ten  lenses  composing  such  a  glass,  "  each  of  which  must  be 
exact  in  radius  and  in  surface,  and  all  have  their  axes  coinci- 

[*  That  is  to  say,  accurate  in  measures  estimated  in  miliionths 
of  inches.] 


98 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


dent ;  "  but  it  would  not  be  intelligible  without  the  figure  by 
which  it  is  illustrated,  so  I  pass  to  Mr.  Kingsley's  No.  3  : 

"I  am  tolerably  familiar/'  he  proceeds,  "with  the  actual 
grinding  and  polishing  of  lenses  and  specula,  and  have  pro- 
duced by  my  own  hands  some  by  no  means  bad  optical  work  ; 
and  1  have  copied  no  small  amount  of  Turner's  work,  and  I 
still  look  with  awe  at  the  combined  delicacy  and  precision  of 
his  hand  ;  it  beats  optical  work  out  of  sight*  In  optical  work, 
as  in  refined  drawing,  the  hand  goes  beyond  the  eye,  [*]  and 
one  has  to  depend  upon  the  feel ;  and  when  one  has  once 
learned  what  a  delicate  affair  touch  is,  one  gets  a  horror  of  all 
coarse  work,  and  is  ready  to  forgive  any  amount  of  feebleness, 
sooner  than  the  boldness  which  is  akin  to  impudence.  In 
optics  the  distinction  is  easily  seen  when  the  work  is  put  to 
trial ;  but  here  too,  as  in  drawing,  it  requires  an  educated  eye 
to  tell  the  difference  when  the  work  is  only  moderately  bad  ; 
but  with  '  bold '  work  nothing  can  be  seen  but  distortion  and 
fog,  and  I  heartily  wish  the  same  result  would  follow  the  same 
kind  of  handling  in  drawing ;  but  here,  the  boldness  cheats 
the  unlearned  by  looking  like  the  precision  of  the  true  man. 
It  is  very  strange  how  much  better  our  ears  are  than  our  eyes 
in  this  country  :  if  an  ignorant  man  were  to  be  e  bold  '  with  a 
violin,  he  would  not  get  many  admirers,  though  his  boldness 
was  far  below  that  of  ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred  drawings 
one  sees." 

The  words  which  I  have  italicized  3  in  the  above  extract  are 
those  which  were  surprising  to  me.    I  knew  that  Turner's 

[*  In  case  any  of  your  readers  should  question  the  use,  in 
drawing  of  work  too  fine  for  the  touches  to  be  individually,  I 
quote  a  sentence  from  my  Elements  of  Drawing.1  "All  fine 
coloring,  like  fine  drawing,  is  delicate  ;  so  delicate,  that  if  at 
last  you  see  the  color  you  are  putting  on,  you  are  putting  on 
too  much.  You  ought  to  feel  a  change  wrought  in  the  genera! 
tone  by  touches  which  are  individually  too  pale  to  be  seen."] 


1  See  the  Elements  of  Drawing,  Letter  III.  on  Color  and  Composition/ 
p.  132. 

2  Doubly  emphasized  in  The  Two  Paths,  where  the  words  are  printed 
thus :  44 1  still  look  with  awe  at  the  combined  delicacy  and  precision  of  hit 
hand  ;  it  beats  optical  work  out  of  sight.  " 

3  The  Two  Paths  reprint  has  "  put  in  italics.' 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


99 


was  as  refined  as  any  optical  work,  but  had  no  idea  of  its 
going  beyond  it.  Mr.  Kingsley's  word  "awe,"  occurring  just 
before,  is,  however,  as  I  have  often  felt,  precisely  the  right  one. 
When  once  we  begin  at  all  to  understand  the  work  of  any 
truly  great  executor,  such  as  that  of  any  of  the  three  great 
Venetians  [(Tintoret,  Titian,  and  Veronese)],  Correggio,  or 
Turner,  the  awe  of  it  is  something  greater  than  can  be  felt 
from  the  most  stupendous  natural  scenery.  For  the  creation 
of  such  a  system  as  a  high  human  intelligence,  endowed  with 
its  ineffably  perfect  instruments  of  eye  and  hand,  is  a  far  more 
appalling  manifestation  of  Infinite  Power  than  the  making 
either  of  seas  or  mountains.  After  this  testimony  to  the  com- 
pletion of  Turner's  work,  I  need  not  at  length  defend  myself 
from  the  charge  of  hyperbole  in  the  statement  that,  "  as  far  as 
I  know,  the  galleries  of  Europe  may  be  challenged  to  pro- 
duce one  sketch  1  that  shall  equal  the  chalk  study  No.  45,  or 
the  feeblest  of  the  memoranda  in  the  71st  and  following 
frames  ; " 2  which  memoranda,  however,  it  should  have  been 
observed,  are  stated  at  the  forty-fourth  page  to  be  in  some  re- 
spects "  the  grandest  work  in  gray  that  he  did  in  his  life." 

For  I  believe  that,  as  manipulators,  none  but  the  four  men 
whom  I  have  just  named  (the  three  Venetians  and  Correggio) 
wrere  equal  to  Turner  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  none  of  these 
four  men  put  their  full  strength  into  sketches.  But  whether 
they  did  or  not,  my  statement  in  the  Catalogue  is  limited  by 
my  own  knowledge,  and  as  far  as  I  can  trust  that  knowledge : 


1  The  following  note  is  here  added  to  the  reprint  in  The  Two  Paths: 
"  A  sketch,  observe — not  a  printed  drawing.  Sketches  are  only  proper 
subjects  of  comparison  with  each  other  when  they  coiuain  about  the 
same  quantity  of  work  :  the  test  of  their  merit  is  the  quantity  of  truth 
told  with  a  given  number  of  touches.  The  assertion  in  the  Catalogue 
which  this  letter  was  written  to  defend  was  made  respecting  the  sketch 
of  Rome,  No.  101." 

2  No.  45  was  a  Study  of  a  Cutter.  Mr.  Ruskins  note  to  it  in  the  Cat- 
alogue is  partly  as  follows  :  "  I  have  never  seen  any  chalk  sketch  which 
for  a  moment  could  be  compared  with  this  for  soul  and  power.  ...  I 
should  think  that  the  power  of  it  would  be  felt  by  most  people ;  but  if 
not,  let  those  who  do  not* feel  its  strength,  try  to  copy  it."  See  the 
Catalogue  under  No.  45,  as  also  under  No.  71,  referred  to  above. 


100 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


it  is  not  an  enthusiastic  statement,  but  an  entirely  calm  and 
considered  one.  It  may  be  a  mistake,  but  it  is  not  an  hyper* 
bole. 

Lastly,  you  object  that  the  drawings  for  the  "  Liber  Stu- 
diorum  "  are  not  included  in  my  catalogue.  They  are  not  so, 
because  I  did  not  consider  them  as,  in  a  true  sense,  drawings 
at  all ;  they  are  merely  washes  of  color  laid  roughly  to  guide 
the  mezzotint  engraver  in  his  first  process  ;  the  drawing, 
properly  so  called,  was  all  put  in  by  Turner  when  he  etched 
the  plates,  or  superadded  by  repeated  touchings  on  the  proofs. 
These  brown  "  guides,"  for  they  are  nothing  more,  are  entirely 
unlike  the  painter's  usual  work,  and  in  every  way  inferior  to 
it ;  so  that  students  wishing  to  understand  the  composition  of 
the  "  Liber  "  must  always  work  from  the  plates,  and  not  from 
these  first  indications  of  purpose.1  I  have  put  good  impres- 
sions of  two  of  the  plates  in  the  same  room,  in  order  to  show 
their  superiority  ;  and  for  the  rest,  thought  it  useless  to  in- 
crease the  bulk  of  the  Catalogue  by  naming  subjects  which 
have  been  published  and  well  known  these  thirty  years.2 

Permit  me,  in  conclusion,  to  thank  you  for  drawing  atten- 
tion to  the  subject  of  this  great  national  collection  ;  and,  again 


1  In  a  letter  to  Mr.  Norton  written  in  the  same  year  as  this  one  to  the 
Literary  Gazette,  Mr.  Ruskin  thus  speaks  of  the  value  of  these  plates: 
u  Even  those  who  know  most  of  art  may  at  first  look  be  disappointed  with 
the  Liber  Studiorum.  For  the  nobleness  of  these  designs  is  not  more  in 
what  is  done  than  in  what  is  not  done  in  them.  Every  touch  in  these 
plates  is  related  to  every  other,  and  has  no  permission  of  withdrawn, 
monastic  virtue,  but  is  only  good  in  its  connection  with  the  rest,  and  in 
that  connection  infinitely  and  inimitably  good.  The  showing  how  each 
of  these  designs  is  connected  by  all  manner  of  strange  intellectual  chords 
and  nerves  with  the  pathos  and  history  of  this  old  English  country  of 
our,  and  with  the  history  of  European  mind  from  earliest  mythology 
down  to  modern  rationalism  and  irrationalism — all  this  was  what  I  meant 
to  try  and  show  in  my  closing  work  ;  but  long  before  that  closing  I  felt 
it  to  be  impossible." — Extract  from  a  letter  of  Mr.  Ruskin,  1858,  quoted 
in  the  "List  of  Turner  Drawings,  etc."  already  mentioned,  p.  19. 

2  The  Literary  Gazette  of  November  20,  1858,  contains  a  reply  to  this 
letter,  but  as  it  did  not  provoke  a  further  letter  from  Mr.  Ruskin,  it  is 
not  noticed  in  detail  here. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


101 


asking  your  indulgence  for  trespassing  so  far  upon  your  space, 
to  subscribe  myself, 

Very  respectfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


[From  "  The  Times,'1  October  21,  1859.] 

THE  TURNER  GALLERY  AT  KENSINGTON.1 

To  the  Editor  of  "The  Times:' 

Sir  :  At  the  time  of  my  departure  for  the  Continent  some 
months  ago  I  had  heard  it  was  proposed  to  light  the  Turner 
Galleiy,  at  Kensington,  with  gas  ;  but  I  attached  no  im- 
portance to  the  rumor,  feeling  assured  that  a  commission 
would  be  appointed  on  the  subject,  and  that  its  decision  would 
be  adverse  to  the  mode  of  exhibition  suggested. 

Such  a  commission  has,  I  find  been  appointed  ;  and  has, 
contrary  to  my  expectations,  approved  and  confirmed  the  plan 
of  lighting  proposed. 

It  would  be  the  merest  presumption  in  me  to  expect  weight 
to  be  attached  to  any  opinion  of  mine,  opposed  to  that  of  any 
one  of  the  gentlemen  who  formed  the  commission  ;  but  as  I 
was  officially  employed  in  some  of  the  operations  connected 
with  the  arrangement  of  the  Turner  Gallery  at  Marlborough 
House,  and  as  it  might  therefore  be  supposed  by  the  public 
that  I  at  least  concurred  in  recommending  the  measures  now 
taken  for  exhibition  of  the  Turner  pictures  in  the  evening,  at 
Kensington,  I  must  beg  your  permission  to  state  in  your 
columns  that  I  take  no  share  in  the  responsibility  of  lighting 
the  pictures  either  of  Eeynolds  or  Turner  with  gas  ;  that,  on 
the  contrary,  my  experience  would  lead  me  to  apprehend  seri- 
ous injury  to  those  pictures  from  such  a  measure  ;  and  that  it 
is  with  profound  regret  that  I  have  heard  of  its  adoption. 

1  There  was  at  the  date  of  this  and  the  following  letter  an  exhibition 
of  Turner  drawings  at  the  South  Kensington  Museum.  These  pictures 
have,  however,  been  since  removed  to  the  National  Gallery,  and  the 
only  works  of  Turner  now  at  Kensington,  are  some  half  a  dozen  oil 
paintings  belonging  to  the  Sheepshanks  collection,  and  about  the  same 
number  of  water-color  drawings,  which  form  part  of  the  historical  series 
of  British  water-color  paintings. 


102 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


I  specify  the  pictures  of  Reynolds  and  Turner,  because  the 
combinations  of  coloring  material  employed  by  both  these 
painters  are  various,  and  to  some  extent  unknown  ;  and  also 
because  the  body  of  their  colors  shows  peculiar  liability  to 
crack,  and  to  detach  itself  from  the  canvas.  I  am  glad  to  be 
able  to  bear  testimony  to  the  fitness  of  the  gallery  at  Ken- 
sington, as  far  as  could  be  expected  under  the  circumstances, 
for  the  exhibition  of  the  Turner  pictures  by  daylight,  as  well 
as  to  the  excellence  of  Mr.  Wornum's  chronological  arrange- 
ment of  them  in  the  three  principal  rooms. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  Oct.  20. 

p.S. — I  wish  the  writer  of  the  admirable  and  exhaustive 
letter  which  appeared  in  your  columns  of  yesterday  on  the 
subject  of  Mr.  Scott's  design  for  the  Foreign  Office  would 
allow  me  to  know  his  name.1 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  July  5,  1876.] 

TURNERS  DRAWINGS. 

To  the  Editor  of  "The  Daily  Telegraph.''1 

Sm  :  I  am  very  heartily  glad  to  see  the  subject  of  Turner's 
drawings  brought  more  definitely  before  the  public  in  your 

1  This  refers  to  a  letter  signed  "  E.  A.  F."  which  appeared  in  The 
Times  of  October  19,  1859,  advising  the  adoption  of  Mr.  Gilbert  Scott's 
Gothic  design  for  the  Foreign  Office  in  preference  to  any  Classic  design. 
The  writer  entered  at  some  length  into  the  principles  of  Gothic  and 
Classic  architecture,  which  he  briefly  summed  up  in  the  last  sentence 
of  his  letter  :  "  Gothic,  then,  is  national ;  it  is  constructively  real ;  it  is 
equally  adapted  to  all  sorts  of  buildings  ;  it  is  convenient ;  it  is  cheap. 
In  none  of  these  does  Italian  surpass  it ;  in  most  of  them  it  is  very  in- 
ferior to  it.  ?  See  the  letters  on  the  Oxford  Museum  as  to  the  adapta- 
bility of  Gothic— included  in  Section  vi.  of  these  Letters  on  Art.  With 
regard  to  the  cheapness  of  Gothic,  the  correspondent  of  The  Times  had 
pointed  out  that  while  it  may  be  cheap  and  yet  thoroughly  good  so  far 
as  it  goes,  Italian  must  always  be  costly. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


103 


remarks  on  the  recent  debate  1  in  Parliament.  It  is  indeed 
highly  desirable  that  these  drawings  should  be  made  more 
accessible,  and  I  will  answer  your  reference  to  me  by  putting 
you  in  possession  of  all  the  facts  which  it  is  needful  that  the 
public  should  know  or  take  into  consideration  respecting 
them,  in  either  judging  what  has  been  hitherto  done  by  those 
entrusted  with  their  care,  or  taking  measures  for  obtaining 
greater  freedom  in  their  use.  Their  use,  I  say,  as  distin- 
guished from  the  mere  pleasure  of  seeing  them.  This  pleas- 
ure, to  the  general  public,  is  very  small  indeed.  You  appear 
not  to  be  aware  that  three  hundred  of  the  finest  examples, 
including  all  the  originals  of  the  Liber  Studiorum,  were 
framed  by  myself,  especially  for  the  public,  in  the  year  1858, 
and  have  been  exhibited  every  day,  and  all  day  long,  ever 
since  in  London.  But  the  public  never  stops  a  moment  in 
the  room  at  Kensington  where  they  hang ;  and  the  damp, 
filth,  and  gas  (under  the  former  management  of  that  institu- 
tion)* soiled  their  frames  and  warped  the  drawings,  "by 
friend  remembered  not." 

You  have  been  also  misinformed  in  supposing  that  "for 
some  years  these  aquarelles  were  unreservedly  shown,  and  in 
all  the  fulness  of  daylight."  Only  the  "  Seine"  series  (rivers 
of  France),  the  rivers  of  England,  the  harbors  of  England,  and 
the  Rogers'  vignettes  (about  a  hundred  drawings  in  all),  were 
exhibited  in  the  dark  under-room  of  Marlborough  House,  and 
a  few  larger  and  smaller  examples  scattered  up  and  down  in 
the  room  of  the  National  Gallery,  including  Fort  Bard,  Edin- 

*  Now  I  trust,  under  Mr.  Poynter  and  Mr.  Sparkes  under- 
going thorough  reform.2 

1  Hardly  a  debate.  Lord  Francis  Hervey  had  recently  (June  30, 
1876)  put  a  question  in  the  House  of  Commons  to  Lord  Henry  Lennox 
(First  Commissioner  of  Works)  as  to  whether  it  was  the  fact  that  many 
of  Turner's  drawings  were  at  that  time  stowed  in  the  cellars  of  the  Na- 
tional Gallery,  and  had  never  been  exhibited.  The  Daily  Telegraph  in 
a  short  article  on  the  matter  (July  1,  1876)  appealed  to  Mr.  Ruskin  for 
his  opinion  on  the  exhibition  of  these  drawings. 

s  Mr.  Poynter,  R.A.,  was  then,  as  now,  Director,  and  Mr.  Sparkes 
Head  Master,  of  the  Art  School  at  the  South  Kensington  Museum. 


104 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


burgh,  and  Ivy  Bridge.1  These  drawings  are  all  finished, 
most  of  them  have  been  engraved  ;  they  were  shown  as  the 
choicest  of  the  collection,  and  there  is  no  question  but  that 
they  should  always  be  perfectly  accessible  to  the  public.  There 
are  no  other  finished  drawings  in  the  vast  mass  of  the  remain- 
ing material  for  exhibition  and  means  of  education.  But  these 
are  all  the  drawings  which  Turner  made  during  his  lifetime, 
in  color,  chalk,  pencil,  and  ink,  for  his  own  study  or  delight ; 
that  is  to  say,  pencil  sketches  to  be  counted  by  the  thousand 
(how  many  thousands  I  cannot  safely  so  much  as  guess),  and 
assuredly  upwards  of  two  thousand  colored  studies,  many  of 
exquisite  beauty ;  and  all  instructive  as  no  other  water-color 
work  ever  was  before,  or  has  been  since  :  besides  the  ink  and 
chalk  studies  for  all  his  great  Academy  pictures.2 

There  are  in  this  accumulation  of  drawings  means  of  educa- 
tion in  the  noblest  principles  of  elementary  art  and  in  the 
most  accomplished  science  of  color  for  every  drawing-school 
in  England,  were  they  properly  distributed.  Besides  these, 
there  are  the  three  hundred  chosen  drawings  already  named, 
now  at  Kensington,  and  about  two  hundred  more  of  equal  value, 
now  in  the  lower  rooms  of  the  National  Gallery,  which  the 
Trustees  permitted  me  to  choose  out  of  the  mass,  and  frame 
for  general  service. 

They  are  framed  as  I  frame  exercise-drawings  at  Oxford, 
for  my  own  schools.  They  are,  when  in  use,  perfectly  secure 
from  dust  and  all  other  sources  of  injury  ;  slide,  when  done 
with,  into  portable  cabinets  ;  are  never  exposed  to  light,  but 
when  they  are  being  really  looked  at ;  and  can  be  examined 
at  his  ease,  measured,  turned  in  whatever  light  he  likes,  by 


1  For  notes  of  these  drawings  seethe  Catalogue  of  the  Turner  Sketches 
and  Drawings  already  mentioned — (a)  The  Battle  of  Fort  Bard,  Val 
d'Aosta,  p.  32  ;  (b)  the  Edinburgh,  p.  80  and  (c)  the  Ivy  Bridge,  Devon, 
p.  32. 

*  I  have  omitted  to  add  to  my  note  (p.  84)  on  Mr.  Ruskin's  arrange- 
ment of  the  Turner  drawings  a  reference  to  his  own  account  of  the  labor 
which  that  arrangement  involved,  and  of  the  condition  in  which  he 
found  the  vast  mass  of  the  sketches.  See  Modem  Painters,  vol.  v., 
Preface,  p.  vi. 


LETTERS  OJSr  ART. 


105 


every  student  or  amateur  who  takes  the  smallest  interest  in 
them.  But  it  is  necessary,  for  this  mode  of  exhibition,  that 
there  should  be  trustworthy  persons  in  charge  of  the  drawings, 
as  of  the  MSS.  in  the  British  Museum,  and  that  there  should 
be  attendants  in  observation,  as  in  the  Print  Room  of  the 
Museum,  that  glasses  may  not  be  broken,  or  drawings  taken 
out  of  the  frames. 

Thus  taken  care  of,  and  thus  shown,  the  drawings  may  be 
a  quite  priceless  possession  to  the  people  of  England  for  the 
next  five  centuries  ;  whereas  those  exhibited  in  the  Manchester 
Exhibition  were  virtually  destroyed  in  that  single  summer.1 
There  is  not  one  of  them  but  is  the  mere  wreck  of  what  it 
was.  I  do  not  choose  to  name  destroyed  drawings  in  the 
possession  of  others  ;  but  I  will  name  the  vignette  of  the 
Plains  of  Troy  in  my  own,  which  had  half  the  sky  baked  out 
of  it  in  that  fatal  year,  and  the  three  drawings  of  Richmond 
(Yorkshire),  Egglestone  Abbey,  and  Langharne  Castle,2  which 
have  had  by  former  exposure  to  light  their  rose-colors  entirely 
destroyed,  and  half  of  their  blues,  leaving  nothing  safe  but 
the  brown. 

I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  repeat  my  former  statements 
respecting  the  injurious  power  of  light  on  certain  pigments 
rapidly,  and  on  all  eventually.  The  respective  keepers  of  the 
Print  Room  and  of  the  Manuscripts  in  the  British  Museum 
are  the  proper  persons  to  be  consulted  on  that  matter,  their 


1  The  Art  Treasures  Exhibition  in  1857,  being  the  year  in  which  the 
lectures  contained  in  the  Political  Economy  of  Art  were  delivered.  (See 
A  Joy  for  Ever — Ruskin's  Works,  vol.  xi.,  p.  80.) 

2  The  Plains  of  Troy  ;—  see  for  a  note  of  this  drawing  Mr.  Raskin's 
Notes  on  his  own  Turners,  1878,  p.  45,  where  he  describes  it  as  "  One  of 
1  lie  most  elaborate  of  the  Byron  vignettes,  and  full  of  beauty,"  adding 
that  "  the  meaning  of  the  sunset  contending  with  the  storm  is  the  con- 
test of  the  powers  of  Apollo  and  Athene  ;  "  and  for  the  engraving  of  it,  see 
Murray's  edition  of  Byron's  Life  and  Works  (1832,  seventeen  volumes), 
where  it  forms  the  vignette  title  page  of  vol.  vii.  For  the  Richmond  and 
the  Egglestone  Abbey,  also  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Ruskin,  see  the 
above  mentioned  Notes  p  29  (Nos.  26  and  27).  The  Langharne  Castle 
was  formerly  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  W.  M.  Bigg,  at  the  sale  of  whose 
collection  in  1808  it  was  sold  for  £451. 


106 


ARROWS  OF  THiiS  CHACE. 


experience  being  far  larger  than  mine,  and  over  longer  epochs. 
I  will,  however,  myself  undertake  to  show  from  my  own  col- 
lection a  water-color  of  the  eleventh  century  absolutely  aa 
fresh  as  when  it  was  laid — having  been  guarded  from  light ; 
and  water-color  burnt  by  sunlight  into  a  mere  dirty  stain  on 
the  paper,  in  a  year,  with  the  matched  piece  from  which  it 
was  cut  beside  it. 

The  public  may,  therefore,  at  their  pleasure  treat  their 
Turner  drawings  as  a  large  exhibition  of  fireworks,  see  them 
explode,  clap  their  hands,  and  have  done  with  them ;  or  they 
may  treat  them  as  an  exhaustless  library  of  noble  learning- 
To  this  end,  they  need,  first,  space  and  proper  light — north 
light,  as  clear  of  smoke  as  possible,  and  large  windows  ;  and 
then  proper  attendance — that  is  to  say,  well-paid  librarians 
and  servants. 

The  space  will,  of  course,  be  difficult  to  obtain,  for  while 
the  British  public  of  the  upper  classes  are  always  ready  to 
pay  any  money  whatever  for  space  to  please  their  pride  in 
their  own  dining-rooms  and  ball-rooms,  they  would  not,  most 
of  them,  give  five  shillings  a  year  to  get  a  good  room  in  the 
National  Gallery  to  show  the  national  drawings  in.  As  to  the 
room  in  which  it  is  at  present  proposed  to  place  them  in  the 
new  building,  they  might  just  as  well,  for  any  good  that  will 
ever  be  got  out  of  them  there,  be  exhibited  in  a  railway 
tunnel. 

And  the  attendants  will  also  be  difficult  to  obtain.  For — 
and  this  is  the  final  fact  to  which  I  beg  your  notice — these 
drawings  now  in  question  were,  as  I  above  stated,  framed  by 
me  in  1858.  They  have  been  perfectly  "accessible"  ever 
since,  and  are  so  now,  as  easily  as  any  works  1  in  the  shops  of 
Regent  Street  are  accessible  over  the  counter,  if  you  have  got 
a  shopman  to  hand  them  to  you.  And  the  British  public 
have  been  whining  and  growling  about  their  exclusion  from 
the  sight  of  these  drawings  for  the  last  eighteen  years,  simply 
because,  while  the}'  are  willing  to  pay  for  any  quantity  of 
{sentinels  to  stand  in  boxes  about  town  and  country,  for  any 


A  misprint  for  i(  wares;  "  see  next  letter,  p.  107. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


107 


quantity  of  flunkeys  to  stand  on  boards  for  additional  weight 
to  carriage  horses,  and  for  any  quantity  of  footmen  to  pour 
out  their  wine  and  chop  up  their  meat  for  them,  they  would 
not  for  all  these  eighteen  years  pay  so  much  as  a  single 
attendant  to  hand  them  the  Turner  drawings  across  the 
National  Gallery  table  ;  but  only  what  was  needful  to  obtain 
for  two  days  in  the  week  the  withdrawal  from  his  other  duties 
in  the  Gallery  of  the  old  servant  of  Mr.  Samuel  Kogers. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Brantwood,  July  3. 

[From  "The  Daily  Telegraph,"  July  19,  1876.] 

TURNER'S  DRAWINGS. 

To  the  Editor  of"  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  In  justice  to  our  living  water-color  artists,  will  you 
favor  me  by  printing  the  accompanying  letter,1  which  I  think 
will  be  satisfactory  to  many  of  your  readers,  on  points  re- 
specting which  my  own  may  have  given  some  of  them  a  false 
impression  ?  In  my  former  letter,  permit  me  to  correct  the 
misprint  of  "  works  "  in  Eegent  Street  for  "  wares." 

I  have  every  reason  to  suppose  Mr.  Collingwood  Smith's 
knowledge  of  the  subject  entirely  trustworthy  ;  but  when  all 
is  conceded,  must  still  repeat  that  no  water-color  work  of  value 
should  ever  be  constantly  exposed  to  light,  or  even  to  the  air 
of  a  crowded  metropolis,  least  of  all  to  gaslight  or  its  fumes. 

I  am,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 

J.  KlJSKIN. 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire,  July  16. 

1  Addressed  to  Mr.  Ruskin  by  Mr.  Collingwood  Smith,  and  requesting 
Mr.  Ruskin  to  state  in  a  second  letter  that  the  remarks  as  to  the  effect 
of  light  on  the  water-colors  of  Turner  did  not  extend  to  water-color 
drawings  in  general ;  but  that  the  evanescence  of  the  colors  in  Turner's 
drawings  was  due  partly  to  the  peculiar  vehicles  with  which  he  painted, 
and  -Dartly  to  the  gray  paper  (saturated  with  indigo)  on  which  he  fre- 
quently worked.  Mr.  Ruskin  complied  with  this  request  by  thus  for- 
warding for  publication  Mr.  Collingwood  Smith's  letter. 


108 


ARR0W8  OF  THE  CHACE. 


[From  "  The  Times,"  April  25,  1876.] 

COPIES  OF  TURNER'S  DRAWINGS. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times:' 

Sir  :  You  will  oblige  me  by  correcting  the  misstatement 
in  your  columns  of  the  22c!,1  that  "only  copies  of  the  copies" 
of  Turner  exhibited  at  148  New  Bond  Street,  are  for  sale. 
The  drawings  offered  for  sale  by  the  company  will,  of  course, 
be  always  made  by  Mr.  Ward  from  the  originals,  just  as  much 
as  those  now  exhibited  as  specimens. 

Tou  observe  in  the  course  of  your  article  that  "  surely  such 
attempts  could  not  gratify  any  one  who  had  a  true  insight  for 

1  Tlie  references  to  The  Times  allude  to  an  article  on  the  "Copies 
of  Turner  Drawings,7  by  Mr.  William  Ward,  of  2  Church  Terrace,  Rich- 
mond, Surrey,  which  were  then,  as  now,  exhibited  for  sale  in  the  rooms 
of  the  Fine  Art  Society. 

Of  these  copies  of  Turner,  Mr.  Ruskin  says  :  u  They  are  executed  with 
extreme  care  under  my  own  eye  by  the  draughtsman  trained  by  me  for 
the  purpose,  Mr.  Ward.  Everything  that  can  be  learned  from  the  smaller 
works  of  Turner  may  be  as  securely  learned  from  these  drawings.  I 
have  been  more  than  once  in  doubt,  seeing  original  and  copy  together, 
which  was  which  ;  and  I  think  them  about  the  best  works  that  can  now 
be  obtained  for  a  moderate  price,  representing  the  authoritative  forms 
of  art  in  landscape." — Extract  from  letter  of  Mr.  Ruskin,  written  in 
1867.  List  of  Turner  Drawings,  etc.,  shown  in  connection  with  Mr. 
Norton's  lectures.  Boston,  1874,  p.  9.  (See  also  Ariadne  Florentina,  p. 
152,  note.) 

The  following  comment  of  Mr.  Ruskin  on  one  of  Mr.  Ward's  most 
recent  copies  is  also  interesting  as  evidence  that  the  opinions  expressed 
in  this  letter  are  still  retained  by  its  writer:  "  London,  20th  March, 
J  880. — The  copy  of  Turner's  drawing  of  Fluelen,  which  has  been  just 
completed  by  Mr.  Ward,  and  shown  to-day,  is  beyond  my  best  hopes  iix 
every  desirable  quality  of  execution ;  and  is  certainly  as  good  as  it  is 
possible  for  care  and  skill  to  make  it.  I  am  so  entirely  satisfied  with  it 
that,  for  my  own  personal  pleasure — irrespective  of  pride,  I  should  feel 
scarcely  any  loss  in  taking  it  home  with  me  instead  of  the  original ;  and 
for  all  uses  of  artistic  example  or  instruction,  it  is  absolutely  as  good  as 
the  original. — John  Ruskin." — The  copy  in  question  is  from  a  drawing 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Ruskin  (see  the  Turner  Notes,  1878,  No.  70), 
and  was  executed  for  its  present  proprietor,  Mr.  T.  S.  Kennedy,  ©f 
Meanwoods,  Leeds, 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


109 


Mr.  Turner's  works  r  "  But  the  reason  that  the  drawings  now 
at  148  New  Bond  Street  are  not  for  sale  is  that  they  do  gratify 
me,  and  are  among  my  extremely  valued  possessions  ;  and  if 
among  the  art  critics  on  your  staff  there  be,  indeed,  any  one 
whose  "  insight  for  Mr.  Turner's  work  "  you  suppose  to  be 
greater  than  mine,  I  shall  have  much  pleasure  in  receiving  any 
instructions  with  which  he  may  favor  me,  at  the  National 
Gallery,  on  the  points  either  in  which  Mr.  Ward's  work  may 
be  improved,  or  on  those  in  which  Turner  is  so  superior  to 
Titian  and  Correggio,  that  while  the  public  maintain,  in  Italy, 
a  nation  of  copyists  of  these  second-rate  masters,  they  are  not 
justified  in  hoping  any  success  whatever  in  representing  the 
work  of  the  Londoner,  whom,  while  he  was  alive,  I  was  always 
called  mad  for  praising. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

John  Buskin. 

Peterborough,  April  23. 


[From  "  The  Times,"  January  24,  1871.] 

"  TURNERS,"  FALSE  AND  TRUE. 

To  the  Editor  of  <;  The  Times." 

Sir  :  I  have  refused  until  now  to  express  any  opinion 
respecting  the  picture  No.  40  1  in  the  Exhibition  of  the  Old 
Masters,  feeling  extreme  reluctance  to  say  anything  which  its 
kind  owner,  to  whom  the  Exhibition  owes  so  much,  might 
deem  discourteous. 

But  I  did  not  suppose  it  was  possible  any  doubt  could  long 
exist  among  artists  as  to  the  character  of  the  work  in  ques- 
tion ;  and,  as  I  find  its  authenticity  still  in  some  quarters 
maintained,  I  think  no  other  course  is  open  to  me  than  to 
state  that  the  picture  is  not  by  Turner,  nor  even  by  an  imi- 
tator of  Turner  acquainted  with  the  essential  qualities  of  the 
master. 


1  Italy,  a  reputed  Turner,  lent  by  the  late  Mr.  Wynn  Ellis.    No.  285 
S  Landscape  with  Cattle*  in  the  possession  of  Lord  Leconfield. 


110 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CEACE. 


I  am  able  to  assert  this  on  internal  evidence  only.  I  neve? 
saw  the  picture  before,  nor  do  I  know  anything  of  the  chan- 
nels through  which  it  came  into  the  possession  of  its  present 
proprietor. 

No.  235  is,  on  the  contrary,  one  of  the  most  consummate 
and  majestic  works  that  ever  came  from  the  artist's  hand,  and 
it  is  one  of  the  very  few  now  remaining  which  have  not  been 
injured  by  subsequent  treatment. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

John  Buskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Jan.  23. 


[From  "The  Life  of  Turner,"  by  Walter  Thornbury.] 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  TURNER. 1 

[The  following  admonition,  sent  by  Mr.  Buskin  in  1857  to 
Mr.  Thornbury,  and  coupled  with  the  advice  that  for  the 
biographer  of  Turner  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  "  for  those 
who  knew  him  when  young  are  dying  daily,"  forms  a  fit  con- 
clusion to  this  division  of  the  letters.] 

Fix  at  the  beginning  the  following  main  characteristics  of 
Turner  in  your  mind,  as  the  keys  to  the  secret  of  all  he  said 
and  did : 

Uprightness. 
Generosity. 

Tenderness  of  heart  (extreme). 

Sensuality. 

Obstinacy  (extreme). 

Irritability. 

Infidelity. 


1  See  also  Modem  Painters,  vol.  v.  pp.  365-367,  and  Lectures  on 
Architecture  and  Painting,  pp.  181-188,  where  the  character  of  Turner  is 
further  explained,  and  various  anecdotes  given  in  special  illustration  of 
his  truth,  generosity,  and  kindness  of  heart. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


Ill 


And  be  sure  that  he  knew  his  own  power,  and  felt  himself 
utterly  alone  in  the  world  from  its  not  being  understood. 
Don't  try  to  mask  the  dark  side.  .  .  . 

Yours  most  truly, 

J.  Ruskin. 

[See  the  preface  to  the  first  edition  of  the  "  Life  of  Turner  ;* 
that  to  the  second  contains  the  following  estimate  of  Mr. 
Thornbury's  book:1  " Lucerne,  Dec.  2,  1861. — I  have  just 
received  and  am  reading  your  book  with  deep  interest.  I  am 
much  gratified  by  the  view  you  have  taken  and  give  of  Turner. 
It  is  quite  what  I  hoped.  What  beautiful  things  you  have 
discovered  about  him !  Thank  you  for  your  courteous  and 
far  too  flattering  references  to  me,"] 


V.— PICTURES  AND  ARTISTS. 

[From  the  "  Catalogue  of  the  Exhibition  of  Outlines  by  the  late  John  Leech,  at  the  Gal- 
lery, 9  Conduit  Street,  Regent  Street/'  1872.*] 

JOHN  LEECH'S  OUTLINES. 

I  am  honored  by  the  request  of  the  sister  of  John  Leech 
that  I  should  give  some  account  of  the  drawings  of  her 
brother,  which  remain  in  her  possession  ;  and  I  am  able  to 
fulfil  her  request  without  departing  from  the  rule  which  has 
always  bound  me,  not  to  allow  any  private  interest  to  weigh 
with  me  in  speaking  of  matters  which  concern  the  public.  It 
is  merely  and  simply  a  matter  of  public  concern  that  the  value 
of  these  drawings  should  be  known  and  measures  taken  for 
their  acquisition,  or,  at  least,  for  obtaining  a  characteristic 
selection  from  them,  as  a  National  property.  It  cannot  be 
necessary  for  me,  or  for  any  one,  now  to  praise  the  work  of 

1  The  book  was  also  referred  to  in  Modern  Painters,  vol.  v.  p.  365, 
where  Mr.  Euskin  speaks  of  this  Life  of  Turner,  then  still  unpublished, 
as  being  written  i  4  by  a  biographer,  who  will,  I  believe,  spare  no  pains 
in  collecting  the  few  scattered  records  which  exist  of  a  career  so  un- 
eventful and  secluded." 

2  Nearly  eight  years  after  Leech's  death  on  October  29,  1864. 


112 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


John  Leech.  Admittedly  it  contains  the  finest  definition  and 
natural  history  of  the  classes  of  our  society,  the  kindest  and 
subtlest  analysis  of  its  foibles,  the  tenderest  flattery  of  its 
pretty  and  well-bred  ways,  with  which  the  modesty  of  subser- 
vient genius  ever  amused  or  immortalized  careless  masters. 
But  it  is  not  generally  known  how  much  more  valuable,  as  art, 
the  first  sketches  for  the  woodcuts,  were  than  the  finished  draw- 
ings, even  before  those  drawings  sustained  any  loss  in  engraving. 

John  Leech  was  an  absolute  master  of  the  elements  of 
character, — but  not  by  any  means  of  those  of  chiaroscuro,— 
and  the  admirableness  of  his  work  diminished  as  it  became 
elaborate.  The  first  few  lines  in  which  he  sets  down  his  pur- 
pose are  invariably  of  all  drawing  that  I  know  the  most  won- 
derful in  their  accurate  felicity  and  prosperous  haste.  It  is 
true  that  the  best  possible  drawing,  whether  slight  or  elabo- 
rate, is  never  hurried.  Holbein  or  Titian,  if  they  lay  only  a 
couple  of  lines,  yet  lay  them  quietly,  and  leave  them  entirely 
right.    But  it  needs  a  certain  sternness  of  temper  to  do  this. 

Most,  in  the  prettiest  sense  of  the  word,  gentle  artists  in- 
dulge themselves  in  the  ease,  and  even  trust  to  the  felicity  of 
rapid — and  even  in  a  measure  inconsiderate — work  in  sketch- 
ing, so  that  the  beauty  of  a  sketch  is  understood  to  be  consist- 
ent with  what  is  partly  unintentional. 

There  is,  however,  one  condition  of  extreme  and  exquisite 
skill  in  which  haste  may  become  unerring.  It  cannot  be  ob- 
tained in  completely  finished  work  ;  but  the  hands  of  Gains- 
borough, Beynolds,  or  Tintoret  often  nearly  approach  comple- 
tion at  full  speed,  and  the  pencil  sketches  of  Turner  are 
expressive  almost  in  the  direct  ratio  of  their  rapidity. 

But  of  all  rapid  and  condensed  realization  ever  accom- 
plished  by  the  pencil,  John  Leech's  is  the  most  dainty,  and 
the  least  fallible,  in  the  subjects  of  which  he  was  cognizant 
Not  merely  right  in  the  traits  which  he  seizes,  but  refined  in 
the  sacrifice  of  what  he  refuses. 

The  drawing  becomes  slight  through  fastidiousness  not 
indolence,  and  the  finest  discretion  has  left  its  touches  rare. 

In  flexibility  and  lightness  of  pencilling,  nothing  but  the 
best  outlines  of  Italian  masters  with  the  silver  point  can  be 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


113 


compared  to  tliem.  That  Leech  sketched  English  squires  in- 
stead of  saints,  and  their  daughters  instead  of  martyrs,  does 
not  in  the  least  affect  the  question  respecting  skill  of  pencil- 
ling ;  and  I  repeat  deliberately  that  nothing  but  the  best  work 
of  sixteenth  century  Italy  with  the  silver  point  exists  in  art, 
which  in  rapid  refinement  these  playful  English  drawings  do 
not  excel.  There  are  too  many  of  them  (fortunately)  to  be 
rightly  exemplary — I  want  to  see  the  collection  divided,  dated 
carefully,  and  selected  portions  placed  in  good  light,  in  a  quite 
permanent  arrangement  in  each  of  our  great  towns  in  connec- 
tion with  their  drawing  schools. 

I  will  not  indeed  have  any  in  Oxford  while  I  am  there,  be- 
cause I  am  afraid  that  my  pupils  should  think  too  lightly  of 
their  drawing  as  compared  with  their  other  studies,  and  I  doubt 
their  studying  anything  else  but  John  Leech  if  they  had  him 
to  study.  But  in  our  servile  schools  of  mechanical  drawing,  to 
see  what  drawing  was  indeed,  which  could  represent  something 
better  than  machines,  and  could  not  be  mimicked  by  any  ma- 
chinery, would  put  more  life  into  them  than  any  other  teach- 
ing I  can  conceive. 

It  is,  therefore,  with  the  greatest  pleasure  that  I  accept  the 
honor  of  having  my  name  placed  on  the  committee  for  obtain- 
ing funds  for  the  purchase  of  these  drawings  ;  and  I  trust  that 
the  respect  of  the  English  public  for  the  gentle  character  of 
the  master,  and  their  gratitude  for  the  amusement  with  which 
he  has  brightened  so  many  of  their  days,  will  be  expressed  in 
the  only  way  in  which  expression  is  yet  possible  by  due  care 
and  wise  use  of  the  precious  possessions  he  has  left  to  them. 

(Signed)       J.  Kuskin, 


[From  "The  Architect,"  December  27,  1873.] 

ERNEST  GEORGE'S  ETCHINGS. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Architect:' 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  entirely  glad  you  had  permission  to 
publish  some  of  Mr.  Ernest  George's  etchings  ; 1  they  are  the 

1  The  number  of  the  Architect  in  which  this  letter  was  printed  con* 
tained  two  sketches  from  Mr.  George's  Etchings  on  the  Mosel— those, 


114 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAGE. 


most  precious  pieces  of  work  I  have  seen  for  many  a  day, 
though  they  are  still,  like  nearly  everything  the  English  do 
best  in  art,  faultful  in  matters  which  might  have  been  easily 
conquered,  and  not  a  little  wasteful,  sometimes  of  means  and 
time  ;  I  should  be  glad,  therefore,  of  space  enough  in  your 
columns  to  state,  with  reference  to  these  sketches,  some  of  tlit* 
principles  of  etching  which  I  had  not  time  to  define  in  the  lect- 
ures on  engraving  I  gave  this  year,  at  Oxford,1  and  which 
are  too  often  forgotten  even  by  our  best  draughtsmen. 

I  call  Mr.  George's  work  precious,  chiefly  because  it  indi- 
cates an  intense  perception  of  points  of  character  in  architec- 
ture, and  a  sincere  enjoyment  of  them  for  their  own  sake. 
His  drawings  are  not  accumulative  of  material  for  future  use ; 
still  less  are  they  vain  exhibitions  of  his  own  skill.  He  draws 
the  scene  in  all  its  true  relations,  because  it  delights  him,  and 
he  perceives  what  is  permanently  and  altogether  characteristic 
in  ifc.  As  opposed  to  such  frank  and  joyful  work,  most  modern 
architectural  drawings  are  mere  diagram  or  exercise. 

I  call  them  precious,  in  the  second  place,  because  they  show 
very  great  powers  of  true  composition.  All  their  subjects  are 
made  delightful  more  by  skill  of  arrangement  than  by  any 
dexterities  of  execution  ;  and  this  faculty  is  very  rare  amongst 
landscape  painters  and  architects,  because  nearly  every  man 
who  has  any  glimmering  of  ifc  naturally  takes  to  figure  paint- 
ing— not  that  the  ambition  to  paint  figures  is  any  sign  of  the 
faculty,  but  that,  when  people  have  the  faculty,  they  nearly 
always  have  also  the  ambition.    And,  indeed,  this  is  quite 

viz.,  of  the  Elector's  Palace,  Coblentz,  and  of  the  interior  of  Metz  Cathe- 
dral. The  intention  of  the  Architect  to  reproduce  these  etchings  had 
apparently  been  previously  communicated  to  Mr.  Ruskin,  who  wrote 
the  present  letter  for  the  issue  in  which  the  etchings  were  to  be  given. 
Mr.  George  has  since  published  other  works  of  the  same  kind— e.g  , 
Etchings  in  Belgium,  Etchings  on  the  Loire  (see  Mr.  Buskin's  advice  to 
him  at  the  end  of  this  letter,  p.  116). 

1  The  reference  must,  I  think,  be  to  Ariadne  Florentina:  Six  Lectures 
on  Wood  and  Metal  Engraving  given  before  the  University  of  Oxford, 
Michaelmas  Term,  1872,  and  afterwards  published,  1873-6.  The  lectures 
given  in  the  year  1873  were  upon  Tuscan  Art,  now  published  in  Val 
d'Arno. 


LETTERS  OJST  ART 


115 


right,  if  they  would  not  forsake  their  architecture  afterwards, 
but  apply  their  power  of  figure  design,  when  gained,  to  the 
decoration  of  their  buildings. 

To  return  to  Mr.  George's  work.  It  is  precious,  lastly,  in 
its  fine  sense  of  serene  light  and  shade,  as  opposed  to  the 
coruscations  and  horrors  .of  modern  attempts  in  that  direction. 
But  it  is  a  pity — and  this  is  the  first  grand  principle  of  etching 
which  I  feel  it  necessary  to  affirm — when  the  instinct  of  chia- 
roscuro leads  the  artist  to  spend  time  in  producing  texture  on 
his  plate  which  cannot  be  ultimately  perfect,  however  labored. 
All  the  common  raptures  concerning  blots,  burr,  delicate  bit- 
ing, and  the  other  tricks  of  the  etching  trade,  merely  indicate 
imperfect  feeling  for  shadow. 

The  proper  instrument  of  chiaroscuro  is  the  brush  ;  a  wash 
of  sepia,  rightly  managed,  will  do  more  in  ten  minutes  than 
Eembrandt  himself  could  do  in  ten  days  of  the  most  ingenious 
scratching,  or  blurt  out  by  the  most  happy  mixtures  of  art 
and  accident.*  As  soon  as  Mr.  George  has  learned  what  true 
light  and  shade  is  (and  a  few  careful  studies  with  brush  or 
chalk  would  enable  him  to  do  so),  he  will  not  labor  his  etched 
subjects  in  vain.  The  virtue  of  an  etching,  in  this  respect,  is 
to  express  perfectly  harmonious  sense  of  light  and  shade,  but 
not  to  realize  it.    All  fine  etchings  are  done  with  few  lines. 

Secondly — and  this  is  a  still  more  important  general  prin- 
ciple (I  must  let  myself  fall  into  dictatorial  terms  for  brevity's 
sake) — Let  your  few  lines  be  sternly  clear,  however  delicate, 
or  however  dark.  All  burr  and  botch  is  child's  play,  and  a 
true  draughtsman  must  never  be  at  the  mercy  of  his  copper 
and  ink.  Drive  your  line  well  and  fairly  home  ;  don't  scrawl 
or  zigzag ;  know  where  your  hand  is  going,  and  what  it  is 
doing,  to  a  hairbreadth  ;  then  bite  clear  and  clean,  and  let  the 
last  impression  be  as  good  as  the  first  When  it  begins  to 
fail  break  your  plate. 

*  The  value  of  Rembrandt's  etchings  is  always  in  the  inverse 
ratio  of  the  labor  bestowed  on  them  after  his  first  thoughts 
have  been  decisively  expressed  ;  and  even  the  best  of  his  chia- 
roscuros (the  spotted  shell,  for  instance)  are  mere  child's  play 
compared  to  the  disciplined  light  and  shade  of  Italian  masters. 


116 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


Third  general  principle. 

Don't  depend  much  on  various  biting.  For  a  true  master, 
and  a  great  purpose,  even  one  biting  is  enough.  By  no  flux 
or  dilution  of  acid  can  you  ever  etch  a  curl  of  hair  or  a  cloud  ; 
and  if  you  think  you  can  etch  the  gradations  of  coarser  things, 
it  is  only  because  you  have  never  seen  them.  Try,  at  your 
leisure,  to  etch  a  teacup  or  a  tallow  candle,  of  their  real  size  ; 
see  what  you  can  make  of  the  gradations  of  those  familiar 
articles  ;  if  you  succeed  to  your  mind,  you  may  try  something 
more  difficult  afterwards. 

Lastly.  For  all  definite  shades  of  architectural  detail,  use 
pencil  or  charcoal,  or  the  brush,  never  the  pen  point.  You 
can  draw  a  leaf  surface  rightly  in  a  minute  or  two  with  these 
i — with  the  pen  point,  never,  to  all  eternity.  And  on  you 
knowing  what  the  surface  of  a  form  is  depends  your  entire 
power  of  recognizing  good  work.  The  difference  between 
thirteenth  century  work,  wholly  beautiful,  and  a  cheap  imita- 
tion of  it,  wholly  damnable,  lies  in  gradation  of  surface  as 
subtle  as  those  of  a  rose-leaf,  and  which  are,  to  modern  sculpt- 
ure, what  singing  is  to  a  steam-whistle. 

For  the  rest,  the  limitation  of  etched  work  to  few  lines 
enables  the  sketcher  to  multiply  his  subjects,  and  make  his 
time  infinitely  more  useful  to  himself  and  others.  I  would 
most  humbly  solicit,  in  conclusion,  such  advantageous  use  of 
his  gifts  from  Mr.  George.  He  might  etch  a  little  summer 
tour  for  us  every  year,  and  give  permanent  and  exquisite 
record  of  a  score  of  scenes,  rich  in  historical  interest,  with  no 
more  pains  than  he  has  spent  on  one  or  two  of  these  plates  in 
drawing  the  dark  sides  of  a  wall.        Yours  faithfully, 

John  Euskin, 


[From  "  The  Times,"  January  20,  1876.] 

THE  FREDERICK  WALKER  EXHIBITION. 

Dear  Mr.  Marks  : 1  You  ask  me  to  say  what  I  feel  of  Fred- 
erick Walker's  work,  now  seen  in  some  collective  mass,  as  far 

'This  letter  was  written  to  Mr.  H.  Stacy  Marks,  A.R.A.,  in  answer  to 
a  request  that  Mr.  Ruskin  would  in  some  way  record  his  impression  of 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


117 


as  anything  can  be  seen  in  black-veiled  London.  You  have 
long  known  my  admiration  of  his  genius,  my  delight  in  many 
passages  of  his  art.  These,  while  he  lived,  were  all  I  cared  to 
express.  If  you  will  have  me  speak  of  him  now,  I  will  speak 
the  whole  truth  of  what  I  feel — namely,  that  every  soul  in 
London  interested  in  art  ought  to  go  to  see  that  Exhibition, 
and,  amid  all  the  beauty  and  the  sadness  of  it,  very  diligently 
to  try  and  examine  themselves  as  to  the  share  they  have  had, 
in  their  own  busy  modern  life,  in  arresting  the  power  of  this 
man  at  the  point  where  it  stayed.  Very  chief  share  they  have 
had,  assuredly.  But  he  himself,  in  the  liberal  and  radical 
temper  of  modern  youth,  has  had  his  own  part  in  casting  down 
his  strength,  following  wantonly  or  obstinately  his  own  fancies 
wherever  they  led  him.  For  instance,  it  being  Nature's  opin- 
ion that  sky  should  usually  be  blue,  and  it  being  Mr.  Walker's 
opinion  that  it  should  be  the  color  of  buff  plaster,  he  reso- 
lutely makes  it  so,  for  his  own  isolated  satisfaction,  partly  in 
affectation  also,  buff  skies  being  considered  by  the  public 
more  sentimental  than  blue  ones.  Again,  the  laws  of  all  good 
painting  have  been  long  ago  determined  by  absolute  masters, 
whose  work  cannot  be  bettered  nor  departed  from — Titian 
having  determined  forever  what  oil-painting  is,  Angelico  what 
what  tempera-painting  is,  Perugino  what  fresco-painting  is, 
two  hundred  years  of  noble  miniature-painting  what  minutest 
work  on  ivory  is,  and,  in  modern  times,  a  score  of  entirely 
skilful  and  disciplined  draughtsmen  what  pure  water-color 
and  pure  body-color  painting  on  paper  are  (Turner's  York- 
shire drawing  of  Hornby  Castle,  now  at  Kensington,  and  John 
Lewis's  "  Encampment  under  Sinai,"  1  being  namable  at  once 
as  unsurpassable  standards),  here  is  Mr.  Walker  refusing  to 
learn  anything  from  any  of  those  schools  or  masters,  but  in- 


the  Frederick  Walker  Exhibition,  then  open  to  the  public.  Frederick 
Walker  died  in  June,  1875,  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-five,  only  four  years 
after  having  been  elected  an  Associate  of  the  Royal  Academy. 

1  The  Hornby  Castle  was  executed,  together  with  the  rest  of  the 
"great  Yorksnire  series,"  for  Whitaker's  History  of  Richmondshire 
(Longman,  1823). — The  picture  of  John  Lewis  here  alluded  to  is  de- 
scribed in  Mr.  Ruskin's  Academy  Notes,  1856,  No.  II.,  p.  37. 


lis 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


venting  a  semi-miniature,  quarter  fresco,  quarter  wash  mannei 
of  his  own — exquisitely  clever,  and  reaching,  under  such  clever 
management,  delightfullest  results  here  and  there,  but  which 
betrays  his  genius  into  perpetual  experiment  instead  of  achieve- 
ment, and  his  life  into  woful  vacillation  between  the  good,  old, 
quiet  room  of  the  Water-Color  Society,  and  your  labyrinthine 
magnificence  at  Burlington  House. 

Lastly,  and  in  worst  error,  the  libraries  of  England  being 
full  of  true  and  noble  books — her  annals  of  true  and  noble 
history,  and  her  traditions  of  beautiful  and  noble — in  these 
scientific  times  I  must  say,  I  suppose,  "  mythology  " — not  re- 
ligion— from  all  these  elements  of  mental  education  and  sub- 
jects of  serviceable  art,  he  turns  recklessly  away  to  enrich  the 
advertisements  of  the  circulating  library,  to  sketch  whatever 
pleases  his  fancy,  barefooted,  or  in  dainty  boots,  of  modern 
beggary  and  fashion,  and  enforce,  with  laboriously  symbolical 
pathos,  his  adherence  to  Justice  Shallow's  sublime  theology 
that  "all  shall  die." 

That  theology  has  indeed  been  preached  by  stronger  men, 
again  and  again,  from  Horace's  days  to  our  own,  but  never  to 
so  little  purpose.  "Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we 
die,"  said  wisely  in  his  way,  the  Latin  farmer  :  ate  his  beans 
and  bacon  in  comfort,  had  his  suppers  of  the  gods  on  the  fair 
earth,  with  his  servants  jesting  round  the  table,  and  left  eter- 
nal monuments  of  earthly  wisdom  and  of  cricket- song.  "Let 
us  labor  and  be  just,  for  to-morrow  we  die,  and  after  death 
the  Judgment,"  said  Holbein  and  Durer,  and  left  eternal  monu- 
ments of  upright  human  toil  and  honorable  gloom  of  godly 
fear.  "Let  us  rejoice  and  be  exceeding  glad,  for  to-morrow 
we  die,  and  shall  be  with  God,"  said  Angelico  and  Giotto,  and 
left  eternal  monuments  of  divinely-blazoned  heraldry  of 
Heaven.  "Let  us  smoke  pipes,  make  money,  read  bad  nov- 
els, walk  in  bad  air,  and  say  sentimentally  how  sick  we  are  in 
the  afternoon,  for  to-morrow  we  die,  and  shall  be  made  our- 
selves clay  pipes,"  says  the  modern  world,  and  drags  this 
poor  bright  painter  down  into  the  abyss  with  it,  vainly  clutch- 
ing at  a  handful  or  two  of  scent  and  flowers  in  the  May  gar- 
dens. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


119 


Under  which  sorrowful  terms,  being  told  also  by  your 
grand  Academicians  that  he  should  paint  the  nude,  and>  ac- 
cordingly, wasting  a  year  or  two  of  his  life  in  trying  to  paint 
schoolboys'  backs  and  legs  without  their  shirts  or  breeches, 
and  with  such  other  magazine  material  as  he  can  pick  up  of 
sick  gypsies,  faded  gentlewomen,  pretty  girls  disguised  as 
paupers,  and  red-roofed  or  gray  remnants  of  old  English  vil- 
lages and  manor-house,  last  wrecks  of  the  country's  peace  and 
honor,  remaining  yet  visible  among  the  black  ravages  of  its 
ruin,  he  supplies  the  demands  of  his  temporary  public, 
scarcely  patient,  even  now  that  he  has  gone,  to  pause  beside 
his  delicate  tulips  or  under  his  sharp-leaved  willows,  and  re- 
pent for  the  passing  tints  and  fallen  petals  of  the  life  that 
might  have  been  so  precious,  and,  perhaps,  in  better  days, 
prolonged. 

That  is  the  main  moral  of  the  Exhibition.  Of  the  beauty 
of  the  drawings,  accepting  them  for  what  they  aim  at  being, 
there  is  little  need  that  I  should  add  anything  to  what  has 
been  already  said  rightly  by  the  chief  organs  of  the  London 
Press.  Nothing  can  go  beyond  them  in  subtlety  of  exhibited 
touch  (to  be  distinguished,  however,  observe  always  from  the 
serene  completion  of  masters  wTork,  disdaining  the  applause 
to  be  gained  by  its  manifestation  ;)  their  harmonies  of  amber- 
color  and  purple  are  full  of  exquisite  beauty  in  their  chosen 
key ;  their  composition  always  graceful,  often  admirable,  and 
the  sympathy  they  express  with  all  conditions  of  human  life 
most  kind  and  true  ;  not  without  power  of  rendering  charac- 
ter which  would  have  been  more  recognized  in  an  inferior  ar- 
tist, because  it  would  have  been  less  restrained  by  the  love  of 
beauty. 

I  might,  perhaps,  in  my  days  of  youth  and  good  fortune, 
have  written  what  the  public  would  have  called  "  eloquent- 
passages"  on  the  subjects  of  the  Almshouse  and  the  Old 
Gate  ; 1  being  now  myself  old  and  decrepit  (besides  being 


1  The  following  are  the  pictures,  as  catalogued,  mentioned  here  : 
fa  The  Almshouse— No.  52— called  the  House  of  Kefuge.    Oil  on  can- 
vas.    A  garden  and  terrace  in  quadrangle  of  almshouses  ;  on  left  an  old 


120 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACK 


much  bothered  with  beggars,  and  in  perpetual  feud  with  par- 
ish officers),  and  having  seen  every  building  I  cared  for  in  the 
world  ruined,  I  pass  these  two  pictures  somewhat  hastily  by, 
and  try  to  enjoy  myself  a  little  in  the  cottage  gardens.  Only 
one  of  them,  however, — No.  71, — has  right  sunshine  in  it,  and 
that  is  a  sort  of  walled  paddock  where  I  begin  directly  to  feel 
uncomfortable  about  the  lamb,  lest,  perchance,  some  front 
shop  in  the  cottages  belong  to  a  butcher.  If  only  it  and  I 
could  get  away  to  a  bit  of  thymy  hill-side,  we  should  be  so 
much  happier,  leaving  the  luminous — perhaps  too  ideally  lu- 
minous— child  to  adorn  the  pathetic  paddock.  I  am  too  shy 
to  speak  to  either  of  those  two  beautiful  ladies  among  the 
lilies  (37,  67),  and  take  refuge  among  the  shy  children  before 
the  " Chaplain's  Daughter"  (20) — deiightfullest,  it  seems  to  me, 
of  the  minor  designs,  and  a  piece  of  most  true  and  wise  satire. 
The  sketches  of  the  "  Daughter  of  Heth  "  go  far  to  tempt  me 
to  read  the  novel ;  and  ashamed  of  this  weakness,  I  retreat 
resolutely  to  the  side  of  the  exemplary  young  girl  knitting  in 
the  u01d  Farm  Garden"  (33),  and  would  instantly  pick  up 


woman  and  girl ;  on  right  a  mower  cutting  grass.  Exhibited  R.  A. 
1872. 

2.  The  Old  Gate— No.  48— oil  on  canvas.  Lady  in  black  and  servant 
with  basket  coming  through  the  gate  of  old  mansion  ;  four  children  at 
play  at  foot  of  steps  ;  two  villagers  and  dog  in  foreground.  Exhibited 
R.  A.  1889. 

3.  The  Cottage  Gardens— No.  71,  The  Spring  of  Life.  Water-color. 
Lady  in  a  garden  with  two  children  and  a  lamb  ;  a  cherry  tree  in  blos- 
som. Exhibited  at  the  Water-Color  Society,  Winter  1866-7.  See  also 
Nos.  14  and  21. 

4.  Ladies  and  Lilies— No.  37,  A  Lady  in  a  Garden,  Perthshire. 
Water-color.  A  lady  seated  on  a  knoll  on  which  is  a  sun-dial ;  grey 
hound  on  left ;  background,  old  manor-house.  No.  67,  Lilies.  Water- 
color.  Lady  in  a  garden  watering  flowers,  chiefly  lilies.  Exhibited  at 
the  Water-Color  Society,  Winter,  1869-70  and  1868-9  respectively. 

5.  The  Chaplain's  Daughter— No.  20,  subject  from  Miss  Thackeray's 
Jack  the  Giant-killer.  Exhibited  at  the  Water-Color  Society,  Summer 
1868. 

6.  Daughter  of  Heth,  by  W.  Black.  No.  87.  Do  ye  no  ken  this  is 
the  Sabbath  ?  Young  lady  at  piano  ;  servant  enters  hurriedly.  (Study 
in  black  and  white,  executed  in  1872.)— [See  vol.  i.  p.  41.    "  4  Preserve 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


121 


her  ball  of  worsted  for  her,  but  that  I  wouldn't  for  the  world 
disappoint  the  cat.  No  drawing  in  the  room  is  more  delicately 
completed  than  this  unpretending  subject,  and  the  flower- 
painting  in  it,  for  instantaneous  grace  of  creative  touch,  cannot 
be  rivalled  ;  it  is  worth  all  the  Dutch  flower-pieces  in  the  world. 

Much  instructed,  and  more  humiliated,  by  passage  after 
passage  of  its  rapidly-grouped  color,  I  get  finally  away  into 
the  comfortable  corner  beside  the  salmon-fishers  and  the 
mushrooms ;  and  the  last-named  drawing,  despise  me  who 
may,  keeps  me  till  I've  no  more  time  to  stay,  for  it  entirely 
beats  my  dear  old  William  Hunt  in  the  simplicity  of  its  exe- 
cution, and  rivals  him  in  the  subtlest  truth. 

I  say  nothing  of  the  "Fishmonger's  Stalls"  (952),  though 
there  are  qualities  of  the  same  kind  in  these  also,  for  they 
somewhat  provoke  me  by  their  waste  of  time — the  labor  spent 
on  one  of  them  would  have  painted  twenty  instructive  studies 
of  fish  of  their  real  size.  And  it  is  well  for  artists  in  general 
to  observe  that  when  they  do  condescend  to  paint  still  life 
carefully — whether  fruit,  fungi,  or  fish — it  must  at  least  be  of 


us  a',  lassie,  do  ye  ken  what  ye' re  doing  ?  Do  ye  no  ken  that  this  is  the 
Sabbath,  and  that  you're  in  a  respectable  house  ?  '  The  girl  turned  round 
with  more  wonder  than  alarm  in  her  face  :  ;Ts  it  not  right  to  play  music 
on  Sunday  ?  '  "] — No.  131.    Three  more  studies  for  the  same  novel.) 

7.  The  Old  Farm  Garden— No.  33— Water-color.  A  girl,  with  cat  on 
lawn,  knitting ;  garden  path  bordered  by  tulips  ;  farm  buildings  in 
background.    Painted  in  1871. 


8.  Salmon-fishers — No.  47  —  Fisherman  and  Boy  —  Water-color. 
Keeper  and  boy  on  bank  of  river.  Glen  Spean.  Salmon  in  foreground. 
Exhibited  at  the  Water-Color  Society,  Summer  1867. 

9.  Mushrooms  and  Fungi — No.  41— Water-color.    Painted  in  1873. 

10.  Fishmonger's  Stalls— Nos.  9  and  62  (not  952)— viz.,  No.  9,  A  Fish- 
monger's Shop.  Water-color.  Painted  in  1873  ;  and  No.  62,  also  A 
Fishmonger's  Shop.  Water-color.  Fishmongers  selling  fish  ;  lady  and 
boy  in  costumes  of  about  1800.  Exhibited  at  Water-Color  Society,  Win- 
ter 1872-3.  (The  Tobias  of  Perugino  has  been  already  alluded  to,  p. 
54,  note). 


11.  No.  68.  The  Ferry.  Water-color.  Sight  size,  Il£xl8  in.  A 
ferry  boat,  in  which  are  two  figures,  a  boatman  and  a  lady,  approaching 
a  landing-place  ;  on  the  bank  figures  of  villagers,  and  children,  feeding 
swans.    Exhibited  at  Water-Color  Society,  Winter  1870-71- 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


the  real  size.  The  portrait  of  a  man  or  woman  is  only  justi- 
fiably made  small  that  it  may  be  portable,  and  nobody  wants 
to  carry  about  the  minature  of  a  cod  ;  and  if  the  reader  will 
waste  five  minutes  of  his  season  in  London  in  the  National 
Gallery,  he  may  see  in  the  hand  of  Perugino's  Tobias  a  fish 
worth  all  these  on  the  boards  together. 

Some  blame  of  the  same  kind  attaches  to  the  marvellous 
drawing  No.  68.  It  is  all  very  well  for  a  young  artist  to  show 
how  much  work  he  can  put  into  an  inch,  but  very  painful  for 
an  old  gentleman  of  fifty-seven  to  have  to  make  out  all  the 
groujos  through  a  magnifying-glass.  I  could  say  something 
malicious  about  the  boat,  in  consequence  of  the  effect  of  this 
exertion  on  my  temper,  but  will  not,  and  leave  with  unquali- 
fied praise  the  remainder  of  the  lesser  drawings  to  the  atten- 
tion which  each  will  variously  reward. 

Nor,  in  what  I  have  already,  it  may  be  thought,  too  bluntly 
said,  ought  the  friends  of  the  noble  artist  to  feel  that  I  am 
unkind.  It  is  because  I  know  his  real  power  more  deeply 
than  any  of  the  admirers  who  gave  him  indiscriminate  ap- 
plause, that  I  think  it  right  distinctly  to  mark  the  causes 
which  prevented  his  reaching  heights  they  did  not  conceive, 
and  ended  by  placing  one  more  tablet  in  the  street  of  tombs, 
which  the  passionate  folly  and  uninstructed  confusion  of  mod- 
ern English  society  prolong  into  dark  perspective  above  the 
graves  of  its  youth. 

I  am,  dear  Marks,  always  very  faithfully  yours, 

J.  Buskin. 


VI. — A  ECHITECTUEE. 

[From  uThe  Oxford  Museum,"  by  H.  W.  Acland  and  J.  Ruskin.  1859.   pp.  44-56.] 

GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE  AND  THE  OXFORD  MUSEUM? 

Dear  Acland  :  I  have  been  very  anxious,  since  I  last  heard 
from  you,  respecting  the  progress  of  the  works  at  the  Museum, 
as  I  thought  I  could  trace  in  your  expressions  some  doubt  of 
an  entirely  satisfactory  issue. 

1  In  1858  the  Oxford  Museum  was  in  course  of  building^  its  architects 
being  Sir  Thomas  Deane  and  Mr.  Woodward,  and  its  style  modem 


LETTERS  ON  AR7 . 


123 


Entirely  satisfactory  very  few  issues  are,  or  can  be  ;  and 
when  the  enterprise,  as  in  ibis  instance,  involves  the  develop- 
ment of  many  new  and  progressive  principles*  we  mast  always 
be  prepared  for  a  due  measure  of  disappointment, — due  partly 
to  human  weakness,  and  partly  to  what  the  ancients  would 
have  called  fate, — and  we  may,  perhaps,  most  wisely  call  the 
law  of  trial,  which  forbids  an}'  great  good  beiug  usually  ac- 
complished without  various  compensations  and  deductions, 
probably  not  a  little  humiliating. 

Perhaps  in  writing  to  you  what  seems  to  me  to  be  the  bear- 
ing of  matters  respecting  your  Museum,  I  may  be  answering 
a  few  of  the  doubts  of  others,  as  well  as  fears  of  your  own. 

I  am  quite  sure  that  when  you  first  used  your  influence  to 
advocate  the  claims  of  a  Gothic  design,  you  did  so  under  the 
conviction,  shared  by  all  the  seriously-purposed  defenders  of 
the  Gothic  style,  that  the  essence  and  power  of  Gothic,  prop- 
erly so  called,  lay  in  its  adaptability  to  all  need  ;  in  that  per- 
fect and  unlimited  flexibility  which  would  enable  the  architect 
to  provide  all  that  was  required,  in  the  simplest  and  most 


Gothic,  whilst  amongst  those  chiefly  interested  in  it  were  Dr.  Acland 
(the  Regius  Professor  of  Medicine)  and  Mr.  Rnskin.  The  present  letter, 
written  in  June,  1858,  was  read  by  Dr.  Acland  at  a  lecture  given  by  him 
in  that  summer  <k  to  the  members  of  tlie  Architectural  Societies  that  met 
in  Oxford  at  that  time.  I  am  permitted  to  reprint  the  following  pas- 
sage from  Dr.  Acland's  preface  to  the  printed  lecture,  as  well  as  oue  or 
two  passages  from  the  lecture  itself  (s<^e  below,  pp.  128  and  129)  ; 
"Many  have  yet  to  learn  the  apparently  simple  truth,  that  to  an  Artist 
his  Art  is  his  means  of  probation  in  this  life  ;  and  that,  whatever  it 
may  have  of  frivolity  to  us,  to  him  it  is  as  the  two  or  the  five  talents,  to 
be  accounted  for  hereafter.  I  might  say  much  on  this  point,  for  the  full 
scop«  of  the  word  Art  seems  by  some  to  be  even  now  unrecognized  Be- 
fore the  period  of  printing,  Art  was  the  largest  mode  of  permanently 
recording  human  thought  ;  it  was  spoken  in  every  epoch,  in  all 
countries,  and  delivered  in  almost  every  material.  In  buildings,  on 
medals  and  coins,  in  porcelain  and  earthenware,  on  wood,  ivory,  parch- 
ment, paper  and  canvas,  the  graver  or  the  pencil  has  recorded  the  ideas 
of  every  form  of  society,  of  every  variety  of  race  and  of  every  character. 
What  wonder  that  the  Artist  is  jealous  of  his  craft,  and  proud  of  his 
brotherhood  ?  '  —  See  The  Oxford  Museum,  p.  4.  The  reader  is  also  re- 
ferred to  Sesame  and  Lilies,  1871  ed.,  103-4. 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAGE. 


convenient  way  ;  and  to  give  you  the  best  offices,  the  best 
lecture-rooms,  laboratories,  and  museums,  which  could  be 
provided  with  the  sum  of  money  at  his  disposal. 

So  far  as  the  architect  has  failed  in  doing  this ;  so  far  as 
you  find  yourself,  with  the  other  professors,  in  anywise  incon- 
venienced by  forms  of  architecture  ;  so  far  as  pillars  or  piers 
come  in  your  way,  when  you  have  to  point,  or  vaults  in  the 
way  of  your  voice,  when  you  have  to  speak,  or  mullions  in  the 
way  of  your  light,  when  you  want  to  see — just  so  far  the 
architect  has  failed  in  expressing  his  own  principles,  or  those 
of  pure  Gothic  art.  I  do  not  suppose  that  such  failure  has 
taken  place  to  any  considerable  extent ;  but  so  far  as  it  has 
taken  place,  it  cannot  in  justice  be  laid  to  the  score  of  the 
style,  since  precedent  has  shown  sufficiently,  that  very  uncom- 
fortable and  useless  rooms  may  be  provided  in  all  other  styles 
as  well  as  in  Gothic  ;  and  I  think  if,  in  a  building  arranged 
for  many  objects  of  various  kinds,  at  a  time  when  the  practice 
of  architecture  has  been  somewhat  confused  by  the  inventions 
of  modern  science,  and  is  hardly  yet  organized  completely 
with  respect  to  the  new  means  at  his  disposal  ;  if,  under  such 
circumstances,  and  with  somewhat  limited  funds,  you  have 
yet  obtained  a  building  in  all  main  points  properly  fulfilling 
its  requirements,  you  have,  I  think,  as  much  as  could  be 
hoped  from  the  adoption  of  any  style  whatsoever. 

But  I  am  much  more  anxious  about  the  decoration  of  the 
building  ;  for  I  fear  that  it  will  be  hurried  in  completion,  and 
that,  partly  in  haste  and  partly  in  mistimed  economy,  a  great 
opportunity  may  be  lost  of  advancing  the  best  interest  of 
architectural,  and  in  that,  of  all  other  arts.  For  the  principles 
of  Gothic  decoration,  in  themselves  as  simple  and  beautiful  as 
those  of  Gothic  construction,  are  far  less  understood,  as  yet, 
by  the  English  public,  and  it  is  little  likely  that  any  effective 
measures  can  be  taken  to  carry  them  out.  You  know  as  well 
as  I,  what  those  principles  are  ;  yet  it  may  be  convenient  to 
you  that  I  should  here  state  them  briefly  as  I  accept  them  my- 
self, and  have  reason  to  suppose  they  are  accepted  by  the 
principal  promoters  of  the  Gothic  revival. 

I.  The  first  principle  of  Gothic  decoration  is  that  a  given 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


125 


quantity  of  good  art  will  be  more  generally  useful  when  ex- 
hibited on  a  large  scale,  and  forming  part  of  a  connected  sys- 
tem, than  when  it  is  small  and  separated.  That  is  to  say,  a 
piece  of  sculpture  or  painting,  of  a  certain  allowed  merit,  will 
be  more  useful  when  seen  on  the  front  of  a  building,  or  at 
the  end  of  a  room,  and  therefore  by  many  persons,  than  if  it 
be  so  small  as  to  be  only  capable  of  being  seen  by  one  or  two 
at  a  time  ;  and  it  will  be  more  useful  when  so  combined  with 
other  work  as  to  produce  that  kind  of  impression  usually 
termed  "  sublime," — as  it  is  felt  on  looking  at  any  great  series 
of  fixed  paintings,  or  at  the  front  of  a  cathedral, — than  if  it  be 
so  separated  as  to  excite  only  a  special  wonder  or  admiration, 
such  as  we  feel  for  a  jewel  in  a  cabinet. 

The  paintings  by  Meissonier  in  the  French  Exhibition  of 
this  year  were  bought,  I  believe,  before  the  Exhibition  opened, 
for  250  guineas  each.  Thejr  each  represented  one  figure, 
about  six  inches  high — one,  a  student  reading  ;  the  other, 
a  courtier  standing  in  a  dress-coat.  Neither  of  these  paintings 
conveyed  any  information,  or  produced  any  emotion  whatever, 
except  that  of  surprise  at  their  minute  and  dextrous  execution. 
They  will  be  placed  by  their  possessors  on  the  walls  of  small 
private  apartments,  wdiere  they  will  probably,  once  or  twice  a 
week,  form  the  subject  of  five  minutes'  conversation  while 
people  drink  their  coffee  after  dinner.  The  sum  expended  on 
these  toys  would  have  been  amply  sufficient  to  cover  a  large 
building  with  noble  frescoes,  appealing  to  every  passer-by,  and 
representing  a  large  portion  of  the  history  of  any  given  period. 
But  the  general  tendency  of  the  European  patrons  of  art  is 
to  grudge  all  sums  spent  in  a  way  thus  calculated  to  confer 
benefit  on  the  public,  and  to  grudge  none  for  minute  treasures 
of  which  the  principal  advantage  is  that  a  lock  and  key  can 
always  render  them  invisible. 

I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  an  acquisitive  selfishness, 
rejoicing  somewhat  even  in  the  sensation  of  possessing  what 
can  not  be  seen  by  others,  is  at  the  root  of  this  art-patronage. 
It  is,  of  course,  coupled  with  a  sense  of  securer  and  more  con- 
venient investment  in  what  may  be  easily  protected  and  easily 
carried  from  place  to  place,  .than  in  large  and  immovable 


126 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OHACK 


works ;  and  also  with  a  vulgar  delight  in  the  minute  curiosities 
of  productive  art,  rather  than  in  the  exercise  of  inventive 
genius,  or  the  expression  of  great  facts  or  emotions. 

The  first  aim  of  the  Gothic  Revivalists  is  to  counteract,  as 
far  as  possible,  this  feeling  on  all  its  three  grounds.  We 
desire  (a)  to  make  art  large  and  publicly  beneficial,  instead 
of  small  and  privately  engrossed  or  secluded  ;  (b)  to  make  art 
fixed  instead  of  portable,  associating  it  with  local  character 
and  historical  memory  ;  (c)  to  make  art  expressive  instead  of 
curious,  valuable  for  its  suggestions  and  teachings,  more  than 
for  the  mode  of  its  manufacture. 

II.  The  second  great  principle  of  the  Gothic  Revivalists  is 
that  ail  art  employed  in  decoration  should  be  informative,  con- 
veying truthful  statements  about  natural  facts,  if  it  conveys 
any  statement.  It  may  sometimes  merely  compose  its  decora- 
tions of  mosiacs,  checkers,  bosses,  or  other  meaningless  orna- 
ments :  but  if  it  represents  organic  form  (and  in  all  important 
places  it  will  represent  it),  it  will  give  that  form  truthfully, 
with  as  much  resemblance  to  nature  as  the  necessary  treatment 
of  the  piece  of  ornament  in  question  will  admit  of. 

This  principle  is  more  disputed  than  the  first  among  the 
Gothic  Revivalists  themselves.  I,  however,  hold  it  simply 
and  entirely,  believing  that  ornamentation  is  always  cceteris 
paribus,  most  valuable  and  beautiful  when  it  is  founded  on 
the  most  extended  knowledge  of  natural  forms,  and  conveys 
continually  such  knowledge  to  the  spectator.1 

HI.  The  third  great  principle  of  the  Gothic  Revival  is  that 
all  architectural  ornamentation  should  be  executed  by  the 
men  who  design  it,  and  should  be  of  various  degrees  of  ex- 
cellence, admitting,  and  therefore  exciting,  the  intelligent  co- 
operation of  various  classes  of  workmen  ;  and  that  a  great 
public  edifice  should  be,  in  sculpture  and  painting,  somewhat 
the  same  as  a  great  chorus  of  music,  in  which,  while,  perhaps, 
there  may  be  only  one  or  two  voices  perfectly  trained,  and  of 
perfect  sweetness  (the  rest  being  in  various  degrees  weaker 
and  less  cultivated),  yet  all  being  ruled  in  harmony,  and  each 


1  See  next  letter,  pp.  128  seqq. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


127 


sustaining  a  part  consistent  with  its  strength,  the  body  of 
sound  is  sublime,  in  spite  of  individual  weaknesses. 

The  Museum  at  Oxford  was,  I  know,  intended  by  its  de- 
signer to  exhibit  in  its  decoration  the  working  of  these  three 
principles  ;  but  in  the  very  fact  of  its  doing  so,  it  becomes 
exposed  to  chances  of  occasional  failure,  or  even  to  serious 
discomfitures,  such  as  would  not  at  all  have  attended  the 
adoption  of  an  established  mode  of  modern  work.  It  is  easy 
to  carve  capitals  on  models  known  for  four  thousand  years, 
and  impossible  to  fail  in  the  application  of  mechanical  meth- 
ods and  formalized  rules.  But  it  is  not  possible  to  appeal 
vigorously  to  new  canons  of  judgment  without  the  chance  of 
giving  offence  ;  nor  to  summon  into  service  the  various  phases 
of  human  temper  and  intelligence,  without  occasionally  find- 
ing the  tempers  rough  and  the  intelligence  feeble.  The  Ox- 
ford Museum  is,  I  believe,  the  first  building  in  this  country 
which  has  had  its  ornamentation,  in  any  telling  parts,  trusted 
to  the  invention  of  the  workman  ;  the  result  is  highly  satis- 
factory, the  projecting  windows  of  the  staircases  being  as 
beautiful  in  effect  as  anything  I  know  in  civil  Gothic :  but 
far  more  may  be  accomplished  for  the  building  if  the  comple- 
tion of  its  carving  be  not  hastened  ;  many  men  of  high  artis- 
tic J30 wer  might  be  brought  to  take  an  interest  in  it,  and  vari- 
ous lessons  and  suggestions  given  to  the  workmen  which 
would  materially  advantage  the  final  decoration  of  leading 
features.  No  very  great  Gothic  building,  so  far  as  I  know, 
was  ever  yet  completed  without  some  of  this  wise  deliberation 
and  fruitful  patience. 

I  was  in  hopes  from  the  beginning  that  the  sculpture  might 
have  been  rendered  typically  illustrative  of  the  English  Flora  : 
how  far  this  idea  has  been  as  yet  carried  out  I  do  not  know  ; 
but  I  know  that  it  cannot  be  properly  carried  out  without  a 
careful  examination  of  the  available  character  of  the  principal 
genera,  such  as  architects  have  not  hitherto  undertaken.  The 
proposal  which  I  heard  advanced  the  other  day,  of  adding  a 
bold  entrance-porch  to  the  facade,  appeared  to  me  every  way 
full  of  advantage,  the  blankness  of  the  facade  having  been,  to 
my  mind,  from  the  first,  a  serious  fault  in  the  design.    If  a 


128 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Gil  AGE. 


subscription  were  opened  for  the  purpose  of  erecting  one,  1 
should  think  there  were  few  persons  interested  in  modern  art 
who  would  not  be  glad  to  join  in  forwarding  such  an  object. 

I  think  I  could  answer  for  some  portions  of  the  design  be- 
ing superintended  by  the  best  of  our  modern  sculptors  and 
painters  ;  and  I  believe  that,  if  so  superintended,  the  porch 
might  and  would  become  the  crowning  beauty  of  the  building, 
and  make  all  the  difference  between  its  being  only  a  satisfactory 
and  meritorious  work,  or  a  most  lovely  and  impressive  one. 

The  interior  decoration  is  a  matter  of  much  greater  diffi- 
culty ;  perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  defer  the  few  words  I 
have  to  say  about  it  till  I  have  time  for  another  letter  :  which, 
however,  I  hope  to  find  speedily. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Acland,  ever  affectionately  yours, 

J.  Buskin.1 


[From  tf  The  Oxford  Museum/'  pp.  60-90.] 

GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE  AND  THE  OXFORD  MUSEUM. 

January  20,  1859. 
My  dear  Acland  :  I  was  not  able  to  write,  as  I  had  hoped, 
from  Switzerland,  for  I  found  it  impossible  to  lay  down  any 
principles  respecting  the  decoration  of  the  Museum  which  did 

1  After  reading  this  letter  to  his  audience,  Dr.  Acland  thus  continued  : 
li  The  principles  thus  clearly  enumerated  by  Mr.  Ruskin  are,  in  the  main, 
those  that  animate  the  earnest  student  of  Gothic.  It  is  not  for  me  es- 
pecially to  advocate  Gothic  Art,  but  only  to  urge,  that  if  called  into  life, 
it  should  be  in  conformity  to  its  own  proper  laws  of  vitality.  If  week 
after  week,  in  my  youth,  with  fresh  senses  and  a  docile  spirit,  I  have 
drank  in  each  golden  glow  that  is  poured  by  a  Mediterranean  sun  from 
over  the  blue  Mgem  upon  the  Athenian  Parthenon,— if,  day  by  day, 
sitting  on  Mars'  Hill,  I  have  watched  each  purple  shadow,  as  the  temple 
darkened  in  majesty  against  the  evening  sky, —if  so,  it  has  been  to  teach 
me,  as  the  alphabet  of  all  Art,  to  love  all  truth  and  to  hate  all  false- 
hood, and  to  kiss  the  hand  of  every  Master  who  has  brought  down, 
under  whatever  circumstance,  and  in  whatever  age,  one  spark  of  true 
light  from  the  Beauty  and  the  subtle  Law,  which  stamps  the  meanest 
work  of  the  Ever-living,  Ever-working  Artist.  "—The  Oxford  Museum? 
pp.  56-7. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


129 


not  in  one  way  or  other  involve  disputed  points,  too  many, 
and  too  subtle,  to  be  discussed  in  a  letter.  Nor  do  I  feel  the 
difficulty  less  in  writing  to  you  now,  so  far  as  regards  the 
question  occurring  in  our  late  conversations,  respecting  the 
best  mode  of  completing  these  interior  decorations.  Yet  I 
must  write,  if  only  to  ask  that  I  may  be  in  some  way  associ- 
ated with  you  in  what  you  are  now  doing  to  bring  the  Museum 
more  definitely  before  the  public  mind — that  I  may  be  as- 
sociated at  least  in  the  expression  of  my  deep  sense  of  the 
noble  purpose  of  the  building — of  the  noble  sincerity  of  effort 
in  its  architect — of  the  endless  good  which  the  teachings  to 
which  it  will  be  devoted  must,  in  their  ultimate  issue,  accom- 
plish for  mankind.  How  vast  the  range  of  that  issue,  you 
have  shown  in  the  lecture  which  I  have  just  read,  in  which  you 
have  so  admirably  traced  the  chain  of  the  physical  sciences  as 
it  encompasses  the  great  concords  of  thi3  visible  universe.1 

1  See  The  Oxford  Museum,  pp.  17-23.  The  following  is  a  portion  of 
the  passage  alluded  to :  "Without  the  Geologist  on  one  side,  and  the 
Anatomist  and  Physiologist  on  the  other,  Zoology  is  not  worthy  of  its 
name.  The  student  of  life,  bearing  in  mind  the  more  general  laws 
which  in  the  several  departments  above  named  he  will  have  sought  to 
appreciate,  will  find  in  the  collections  of  Zoology,  combined  with  the 
Geological  specimens  and  the  dissections  of  the  Anatomist,  a  boundless 
field  of  interest  and  of  inquiry,  to  which  almost  every  other  science 
lends  its  aid  :  from  each  science  he  borrows  a  special  light  to  guide  him 
through  the  ranges  of  extinct  and  existing  animal  forms,  from  the  low- 
est up  to  the  highest  types,  which,  last  and  most  perfect,  but  pre- 
shadowed  in  previous  ages,  is  seen  in  Man.  By  the  aid  of  |3hysiological 
illustrations  he  begins  to  understand  how  hard  to  unravel  are  the  com- 
plex mechanisms  and  prescient  intentions  of  the  Maker  of  all ;  and  he 
slowly  learns  to  appreciate  what  exquisite  care  is  needed  for  discover- 
ing the  real  action  of  even  an  apparently  comprehended  machine.  And 
so  at  last,  almost  bewildered,  but  not  cast  down,  he  attempts  to  scruti- 
nize in  the  rooms  devoted  to  Medicine,  the  various  injuries  which  man  is 
doomed  to  undergo  in  his  progress  towards  death  ;  he  begins  to  revere 
the  beneficent  contrivances  which  shine  forth  in  the  midst  of  suffering 
and  disease,  and  to  veil  his  face  before  the  mysterious  alterations  of 
structure,  to  which  there  seem  attached  pain,  with  scarce  relief,  and  a 
steady  advance,  without  a  check,  to  death.  He  will  look,  and  as  he 
looks,  will  cherish  hope,  not  unmixed  with  prayer,  that  the  great  Art  of 
Healing  may  by  all  these  things  advance  and  that  by  the  progress  of 


130 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


But  how  deep  the  workings  of  these  new  springs  of  knowL 
edge  are  to  be,  and  how  great  our  need  of  them,  and  how  far 
the  brightness  and  the  beneficence  of  them  are  to  reach  among 
all  the  best  interests  of  men — perhaps  none  of  us  can  yet  con- 
ceive, far  less  know  or  say.  For,  much  as  I  reverence  physi- 
cal science  as  a  means  of  mental  education  (and  you  know 
how  I  have  contended  for  it,  as  such,  now  these  twenty  years, 
from  the  sunny  afternoon  of  spring  when  Ehrenberg  and  you 
and  I  went  hunting  for  infusoria  in  Christchurch  meadow 
streams,  to  the  hour  when  the  prize  offered  by  Sir  "Walter 
Trevelyan  and  yourself  for  the  best  essay  on  the  Fauna  of 
that  meadow,  marked  the  opening  of  a  new  era  in  English 
education  ]) — much,  I  say,  as  I  reverence  physical  science  in 
this  function,  I  reverence  it,  at  this  moment,  more  as  the 
source  of  utmost  human  practical  power,  and  the  means  by 
which  the  far-distant  races  of  the  world,  who  now  sit  in  dark- 
ness and  the  shadow7  of  death,  are  to  be  reached  and  regener- 
ated. At  home  or  far  away — the  call  is  equally  instant — 
here,  for  want  of  more  extended  physical  science,  there  is 
plague  in  our  streets,  famine  in  our  fields  ;  the  pest  strikes 
root  and  fruit  over  a  hemisphere  of  the  earth,  we  know  not 
why  ;  the  voices  of  our  children  fade  away  into  silence  of 
venomous  death,  we  know  not  why ;  the  population  of  this 
most  civilized  country  resists  every  effort  to  lead  it  into  purity 
of  habit  and  habitation — to  give  it  genuineness  of  nourish- 


profouncler  science,  by  the  spread  among  the  people  of  the  resultant 
practical  knowledge,  by  stricter  obedience  to  physiological  laws,  by  a 
consequent  more  self-denying  spirit,  some  disorders  may  at  a  future  day 
be  cured,  which  cannot  be  prevented,  and  some,  perhaps,  pre  vented, 
which  never  can  be  cured." 

1  Christian  Gottfried  Ehrenberg,  the  naturalist  and  author  of  many 
works,  of  which  those  on  infusoria  may  be  especially  noted  here.  He 
was  born  in  1795,  and  in  1842  was  elected  Principal  Secretary  to  the 
Berlin  Academy  of  Science,  which  post  he  held  till  his  death  in  1876. 
The  late  Sir  Walter  Calverley  Trevelyan,  Bart.,  will  also  be  remembered 
in  connection  with  the  study  of  natural  science,  as  well  as  for  his  efforts 
in  philanthropy.  He  died  in  March,  1879.  I  have  been  unable  to  find 
any  further  information  as  to  the  prize  mentioned  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  or  aa 
to  the  essay  which  obtained  it. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


131 


ment,  and  wholesomeness  of  air,  as  a  new  interference  with  its 
liberty  ;  and  insists  vociferously  on  its  right  to  helpless  death. 
All  this  is  terrible  ;  but  it  is  more  terrible  yet  that  dim,  phos- 
phorescent, frightful  superstitions  still  hold  their  own  over 
two-thirds  of  the  inhabited  globe,  and  that  all  the  phenomena 
of  nature  which  were  intended  by  the  Creator  to  enforce  His 
eternal  laws  of  love  and  judgment,  and  which,  rightly  under- 
stood, enforce  them  more  strongly  by  their  patient  beneficence, 
and  their  salutary  destructiveness,  than  the  miraculous  dew 
on  Gideon's  fleece,  or  the  restrained  lightnings  of  Horeb — 
that  all  these  legends  of  God's  daily  dealing  with  His  creatures 
remain  unread,  or  are  read  backwards,  into  blind,  hundred- 
armed  horror  of  idol  cosmogony. 

How  strange  it  seems  that  physical  science  should  ever  have 
been  thought  adverse  to  religion  !  The  pride  of  physical 
science  is,  indeed,  adverse,  like  every  other  pride,  both  to  re- 
ligion and  truth  ;  but  sincerity  of  science,  so  far  from  being 
hostile,  is  the  path-maker  among  the  mountains  for  the  feet 
of  those  who  publish  peace. 

Now,  therefore,  and  now  only,  it  seems  to  me,  the  Univer- 
sity has  become  complete  in  her  function  as  a  teacher  of  the 
youth  of  the  nation  to  which  every  hour  gives  wider  authority 
over  distant  lands  ;  and  from  which  every  rood  of  extended 
dominion  demands  new,  various,  and  variously  applicable 
knowledge  of  the  laws  which  govern  the  constitution  of  the 
globe,  and  must  finally  regulate  the  industry,  no  less  than  dis* 
cipline  the  intellect,  of  the  human  race.  I  can  hardly  turn 
my  mind  from  these  deep  causes  of  exultation  to  the  minor 
difficulties  which  beset  or  restrict  your  undertaking.  The 
great  work  is  accomplished  ;  the  immediate  impression  made 
by  it  is  of  little  importance  ;  and  as  for  my  own  special  sub- 
jects of  thought  or  aim,  though  many  of  them  are  closely  in- 
volved in  what  has  been  done,  and  some  principles  which  I 
believe  to  be,  in  their  way,  of  great  importance,  are  awkwardly 
compromised  in  what  has  been  imperfectly  done — all  these  I  am 
tempted  to  waive,  or  content  to  compromise  when  only  I  know 
that  the  building  is  in  main  points  fit  for  its  mighty  work.  Yet 
you  will  not  think  that  it  was  matter  of  indifference  to  me 


132 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE, 


when  I  saw,  as  I  went  over  Professor  Brodie's  1  chemical  lab* 
oratories  the  other  day,  how  closely  this  success  of  adaptation 
was  connected  with  the  choice  of  the  style.  It  was  very 
touching  and  wonderful  to  me.  Here  was  the  architecture 
which  I  had  learned  to  know  and  love  in  pensive  ruins,  de- 
serted by  the  hopes  and  efforts  of  men,  or  in  dismantled  for- 
tress-fragments recording  only  their  cruelty — here  was  this 
very  architecture  lending  itself,  as  if  created  only  for  these,  to 
the  foremost  activities  of  human  discovery,  and  the  tenderest 
functions  of  human  mercy.  No  other  architecture,  as  I  felt 
in  an  instant,  could  have  thus  adapted  itself  to  a  new  and 
strange  office.  No  fixed  arrangements  of  frieze  and  pillar, 
nor  accepted  proportions  of  wall  and  roof,  nor  practised  re- 
finement of  classical  decoration,  could  have  otherwise  than  ab- 
surdly and  fantastically  yielded  its  bed  to  the  crucible,  and  its 
blast  to  the  furnace  ;  but  these  old  vaultings  and  strong  but- 
tresses— ready  always  to  do  service  to  man,  whatever  his  bid- 
ding— to  shake  the  waves  of  war  back  from  his  seats  of  rock, 
or  prolonged  through  faint  twilights  of  sanctuary,  the  sighs 
of  his  superstition — he  had  but  to  ask  it  of  them,  and  they 
entered  at  once  into  the  lowliest  ministries  of  the  arts  of  heal- 
ing, and  the  sternest  and  clearest  offices  in  the  service  of  sci- 
ence. 

And  the  longer  I  examined  the  Museum  arrangements,  the 
more  I  felt  that  it  could  be  only  some  accidental  delay  in  the 
recognition  of  this  efficiency  for  its  work  which  had  caused 
any  feeling  adverse  to  its  progress  among  the  members  of  the 
University.  The  general  idea  about  the  Museum  has  perhaps 
been,  hitherto,  that  it  is  a  forced  endeavor  to  bring  decorative 
forms  of  architecture  into  uncongenial  uses  ;  whereas,  the  real 
fact  is,  as  far  as  I  can  discern  it,  that  no  other  architecture 
would,  under  the  required  circumstances,  have  been  possible  ; 
and  that  any  effort  to  introduce  classical  types  of  form  into 
these  laboratories  and  museums  must  have  ended  in  ludicrous 
discomfiture.    But  the  building  has  now  reached  a  point  of 


1  Mr.  Brodie,  who  succeeded  his  father  as  Sir  Benjamin  Brodie  in 
1867,  was  appointed  Professor  of  Chemistry  at  Oxford  in  1855. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


133 


crisis,  and  it  depends  upon  the  treatment  which  its  rooms  now 
receive  in  completion,  whether  the  facts  of  their  propriety  and 
utility  be  acknowledged  by  the  public,  or  lost  sight  of  in  the 
distraction  of  their  attention  to  matters  wholly  external. 

So  strongly  I  feel  this,  that,  whatever  means  of  decoration 
had  been  at  your  disposal,  I  should  have  been  inclined  to 
recommend  an  exceeding  reserve  in  that  matter.  Perhaps  I 
should  even  have  desired  such  reserve  on  abstract  grounds  of 
feeling.  The  study  of  Natural  History  is  one  eminently  ad- 
dressed to  the  active  energies  of  body  and  mind.  Nothing  is 
to  be  got  out  of  it  by  dreaming,  not  always  much  by  thinking 
— everything  by  seeking  and  seeing.  It  is  work  for  the  hills 
and  fields, — work  of  foot  and  hand,  knife  and  hammer, — so 
far  as  it  is  to  be  afterwards  carried  on  in  the  house,  the 
more  active  and  workmanlike  our  proceedings  the  better,  fresh 
air  blowing  in  from  the  windows,  and  nothing  interfering  with 
the  free  space  for  our  shelves  and  instruments  on  the  walls.  I 
am  not  sure  that  much  interior  imagery  or  color,  or  other  ex- 
citing address  to  any  of  the  observant  faculties,  would  be  de- 
sirable under  such  circumstances.  You  know  best ;  but  I 
should  no  more  think  of  painting  in  bright  colors  beside  you, 
while  you  were  dissecting  or  analyzing,  than  of  entertaining 
you  by  a  concert  of  fifes  and  cymbals. 

But  farther  :  Do  you  suppose  Gothic  decoration  is  an  easy 
thing,  or  that  it  is  to  be  carried  out  with  a  certainty  of  suc- 
cess at  the  first  trial,  under  new  and  difficult  conditions  ?  The 
system  of  the  Gothic  decorations  took  eight  hundred  years 
to  mature,  gathering  its  power  by  undivided  inheritance  of 
traditional  method,  and  unbroken  accession  of  systematic 
power ;  from  its  culminating  point  in  the  Sainte  Chapelle,  it 
faded  through  four  hundred  years  of  splendid  decline  ;  now 
for  two  centuries  it  has  lain  dead — and  more  than  so — buried  ; 
and  more  than  so,  forgotten,  as  a  dead  man  out  of  mind  ;  do 
you  expect  to  revive  it  out  of  those  retorts  and  furnaces  of 
yours,  as  the  cloud-spirit  of  the  Arabian  sea  rose  from  beneath 
the  seals  of  Solomon  ?  Perhaps  I  have  been  myself  faultfully 
answerable  for  this  too  eager  hope  in  your  mind  (as  well  as 
in  that  of  others)  by  what  I  have  urged  so  often  respecting 


134 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


the  duty  of  bringing  out  the  power  of  subordinate  workmen 
in  decorative  design.  But  do  you  think  I  meant  workmen 
trained  (or  untrained)  in  the  way  that  ours  have  been  until 
lately,  and  then  cast  loose  on  a  sudden,  into  unassisted  con- 
tentions with  unknown  elements  of  style  ?  I  meant  the  pre- 
cise contrary  of  this  ;  I  meant  workmen  as  we  have  yet  to 
create  them  :  men  inheriting  the  instincts  of  their  craft 
through  many  generations,  rigidly  trained  in  every  mechani- 
cal art  that  bears  on  their  materials,  and  familiarized  from  in- 
fancy with  every  condition  of  their  beautiful  and  perfect 
treatment ;  informed  and  refined  in  manhood,  by  constant 
observation  of  all  natural  fact  and  form  ;  then  classed,  accord- 
ing to  their  proved  capacities,  in  ordered  companies,  in  which 
every  man  shall  know  his  part,  and  take  it  calmly  and  without 
effort  or  doubt, — indisputably  well,  unaccusably  accomplished, 
— mailed  and  weaponed  cap-d-pie  for  his  place  and  function. 
Can  you  lay  your  hand  on  such  men  ?  or  do  you  think  that 
mere  natural  good- will  and  good-feeling  can  at  once  supply 
their  place  ?  Not  so  :  and  the  more  faithful  and  earnest  the 
minds  you  have  to  deal  with,  the  more  careful  you  should  be 
not  to  urge  them  towards  fields  of  effort,  in  which,  too  early 
committed,  they  can  only  be  put  to  unserviceable  defeat. 

Nor  can  you  hope  to  accomplish  by  rule  or  system  what 
cannot  be  done  by  individual  taste.  The  laws  of  color  are 
definable  up  to  certain  limits,  but  they  are  not  yet  defined. 
So  far  are  they  from  definition,  that  the  last,  and,  on  the 
wThole,  best  work  on  the  subject  (Sir  Gardner  Wilkinson's) 
declares  the  "  color  concords5'  of  preceding  authors  to  be  dis- 
cords, and  vice  versdJ 

Much,  therefore,  as  I  love  color  decoration  when  it  is 
rightly  given,  and  essential  as  it  has  been  felt  by  the  great 
architects  of  all  periods  to  the  completion  of  their  work,  I 
would  not,  in  your  place,  endeavor  to  carry  out  such  decora- 
tion at  present,  in  any  elaborate  degree,  in  the  interior  of  the 
Museum.     Leave  it  for  future  thought ;  above  all,  try  no 


1  Sir  Gardner  Wilkinson's  book  On  Color  and  the  Diffusion  of  Taste 
was  published  in  1858. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


135 


experiments.  Let  small  drawings  be  made  of  the  proposed 
arrangements  of  color  in  every  room  ;  have  them  altered  on 
the  paper  till  you  feel  they  are  right ;  then  carry  them  out 
firmly  and  simply  ;  but,  observe,  with  as  delicate  execution 
as  possible.  Bough  work  is  good  in  its  place,  three  hundred 
feet  above  the  eye,  on  a  cathedral  front,  but  not  in  the  in- 
terior of  rooms,  devoted  to  studies  in  which  everything 
depends  upon  accuracy  of  touch  and  keenness  of  sight. 

With  respect  to  this  finishing,  by  the  last  touches  bestowed 
on  the  scutyture  of  the  building,  I  feel  painfully  the  harmfnl- 
ness  of  any  ill-advised  parsimony  at  this  moment.  For  it 
may,  perhaps,  be  alleged  by  the  advocates  of  retrenchment, 
that  so  long  as  the  building  is  fit  for  its  uses  (and  your  report 
is  conclusive  as  to  its  being  so),  economy  in  treatment  of  ex- 
ternal feature  is  perfectly  allowable,  and  will  in  nowise  dimin- 
ish the  serviceabieness  of  the  building  in  the  great  objects 
which  its  designs  regarded.  To  a  certain  extent  this  is  true. 
You  have  comfortable  rooms,  I  hope  sufficient  apparatus  ;  and 
it  now  depends  much  more  on  the  professors  than  on  the  or- 
naments of  the  building,  whether  or  not  it  is  to  become  a 
bright  or  obscure  centre  of  public  instruction.  Yet  there  are 
other  points  to  be  considered.  As  the  building  stands  at 
present,  there  is  a  discouraging  aspect  of  parsimony  about  it. 
One  sees  that  the  architect  has  done  the  utmost  he  could  with 
the  means  at  his  disposal,  and  that  just  at  the  point  of  reach- 
ing what  was  right,  he  has  been  stopped  for  want  of  funds. 
This  is  visible  in  almost  every  stone  of  the  edifice.  It  separates 
it  with  broad  distinctiveness  from  all  the  other  buildings  in 
the  University.  It  may  be  seen  at  once  that  our  other  public 
institutions,  and  all  our  colleges — though  some  of  them  simply 
designed — are  yet  richly  built,  never  pinchingly.  Pieces  of 
princely  costliness,  every  here  and  there,  mingle  among  the 
simplicities  or  severities  of  the  student's  life.  What  practical 
need,  for  instance,  have  we  at  Christchurch  of  the  beautiful 
fan-vaulting  under  which  we  ascend  to  dine  ?  We  might  have 
as  easily  achieved  the  eminence  of  our  banquets  under  a  plain 
vault.  What  need  have  the  readers  in  the  Bodleian  of  the 
ribbed  traceries  which  decorate  its  external  walls  ?  Yet,  which 


136 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


of  those  readers  would  not  think  that  learning  was  insulted  by 
their  removal  ?  And  are  there  any  of  the  students  of  Balliol 
devoid  of  gratitude  for  the  kindly  munificence  of  the  man 
who  gave  them  the  beautiful  sculptured  brackets  of  their  oriel 
window,  when  three  massy  projecting  stones  would  have 
answered  the  purpose  just  as  well?  In  these  and  also  other 
regarded  and  pleasant  portions  of  our  colleges,  we  find  always 
a  wealthy  and  worthy  completion  of  all  appointed  features, 
which  I  believe  is  not  without  strong,  though  untraced  effect, 
on  the  minds  of  the  younger  scholars,  giving  them  respect  for 
the  branches  of  learning  which  these  buildings  are  intended 
to  honor,  and  increasing,  in  a  certain  degree,  that  sense  of 
the  value  of  delicacy  and  accuracy  which  is  the  first  condition 
of  advance  in  those  branches  of  learning  themselves. 

Your  Museum,  if  you  now  bring  it  to  hurried  completion, 
will  convey  an  impression  directly  the  reverse  of  this.  It  will 
have  the  look  of  a  place,  not  where  a  revered  system  of  in- 
struction is  established,  but  where  an  unadvised  experiment  is 
being  disadvantageously  attempted.  It  is  yet  in  your  power 
to  avoid  this,  and  to  make  the  edifice  as  noble  in  aspect  as  in 
function.  "Whatever  chance  there  may  be  of  failure  in  interior 
work,  rich  ornamentation  may  be  given,  without  any  chance 
of  failure,  to  just  that  portion  of  the  exterior  which  will  give 
pleasure  to  every  passer-by,  and  express  the  meaning  of  the 
building  best  to  the  eyes  of  strangers.  There  is,  I  repeat,  no 
chance  of  serious  failure  in  this  external  decoration,  because 
your  architect  has  at  his  command  the  aid  of  men,  such  as 
worked  with  the  architects  of  past  times.  Not  only  has  the 
art  of  Gothic  sculpture  in  part  remained,  though  that  of 
Gothic  color  has  been  long  lost,  but  the  unselfish — and,  I  re- 
gret to  say,  in  part  self-sacrificing — zeal  of  two  first-rate  sculp- 
tors, Mr.  Munro  and  Mr.  Woolner,  which  has  already  given 
you  a  series  of  noble  statues,  is  still  at  your  disposal,  to  head 
and  systematize  the  efforts  of  inferior  workmen. 

I  do  not  know  if  you  will  attribute  it  to  a  higher  estimate 
than  yours  of  the  genius  of  the  O'Shea  family,1  or  to  a  lower 


1  See  note  to  p,  139. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


137 


estimate  of  what  they  have  as  yet  accomplished,  that  I  believe 
they  will,  as  they  proceed,  produce  much  better  ornamental 
sculpture  than  any  at  present  completed  in  the  Museum.  It 
is  also  to  be  remembered  that  sculptors  are  able  to  work  for 
us  with  a  directness  of  meaning  which  none  of  our  painters1 
could  bring  to  their  task,  even  were  they  disposed  to  help  us, 
A  painter  is  scarcely  excited  to  his  strength,  but  by  subjects 
full  of  circumstance,  such  as  it  would  be  difficult  to  suggest 
appropriately  in  the  present  building  ;  but  a  sculptor  has  room 
enough  for  his  full  power  in  the  portrait  statues,  which  are 
necessarily  the  leading  features  of  good  Gothic  decoration. 
Let  me  pray  you,  therefore,  so  far  as  you  have  influence  with 
the  delegacy,  to  entreat  their  favorable  consideration  of  the 
project  stated  in  Mr.  Gres  well's  appeal — the  enrichment  of  the 
doorway,  and  the  completion  of  the  sculpture  of  the  West 
Front.  There  is  a  reason  for  desiring  such  a  plan  to  be  carried 
out,  of  wider  reach  than  any  bearing  on  the  interest  of  the 
Museum  itself.  I  believe  that  the  elevation  of  all  arts  in  Eng- 
land to  their  true  dignity,  depends  principally  on  our  recover- 
ing that  unity  of  purpose  in  sculptors  and  architects,  which 
characterized  the  designers  of  all  great  Christian  buildings. 
Sculpture,  separated  from  architecture,  always  degenerates 
into  effeminacies  and  conceits  ;  architecture,  stripped  of  sculpt- 
ure, is  at  best  a  convenient  arrangement  of  dead  walls  ; 
associated,  they  not  only  adorn,  but  reciprocally  exalt  each 
other,  and  give  to  all  the  arts  of  the  country  in  which  they 
thus  exist,  a  correspondent  tone  of  majesty. 

But  I  would  plead  for  the  enrichment  of  this  doorway  by 
portrait  sculpture,  not  so  much  even  on  any  of  these  important 
grounds,  as  because  it  wrould  be  the  first  example  in  modern 
English  architecture  of  the  real  value  and  right  place  of 
commemorative  statues.  We  seem  never  to  know  at  present 
where  to  put  such  statues.  In  the  midst  of  the  blighted  trees 
of  desolate  squares,  or  at  the  crossings  of  confused  streets,  or 
balanced  on  the  pinnacles  of  pillars,  or  riding  across  the  tops 
of  triumphal  arches,  or  blocking  up  the  aisles  of  cathedrals — 
in  none  of  these  positions,  I  think,  does  the  portrait  statue 
answer  its  purpose.    It  may  be  a  question  whether  the  erec- 


138 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


tion  of  such  statues  is  honorable  to  the  erectors,  but  assuredly 
it  is  not  honorable  to  the  persons  whom  it  pretends  to  com- 
memorate ;  nor  is  it  any  wise  matter  of  exultation  to  a  man 
who  has  deserved  well  of  his  country  to  reflect  that  he  may 
one  day  encumber  a  crossing,  or  disfigure  a  park  gate.  But 
there  is  no  man  of  worth  or  heart  who  would  not  feel  it  a 
high  and  priceless  reward  that  his  statue  should  be  placed 
Where  it  might  remind  the  youth  of  England  of  what  had  been 
exemplary  in  his  life,  or  useful  in  his  labors,  and  might  be 
regarded  with  no  empty  reverence,  no  fruitless  pensiveness, 
but  with  the  emulative,  eager,  unstinted  passionateness  of 
honor,  which  youth  pays  to  the  dead  leaders  of  the  cause  it 
loves,  or  discoverers  of  the  light  by  which  it  lives.  To  be 
buried  under  weight  of  marble,  or  with  splendor  of  ceremo- 
nial, is  still  no  more  than  burial  ;  but  to  be  remembered 
daily,  with  profitable  tenderness,  by  the  activest  intelligences 
of  the  nation  we  have  served,  and  to  have  power  granted  even 
to  the  shadows  of  the  poor  features,  sunk  into  dust,  still  to 
warn,  to  animate,  to  command,  as  the  father's  brow  rules  and 
exalts  the  toil  of  his  children.  This  is  not  burial,  but  im- 
mortality. 

There  is,  however,  another  kind  of  portraiture,  already 
richly  introduced  in  the  works  of  the  Museum ;  the  portrait- 
ure, namely,  of  flowers  and  animals,  respecting  which  I  must 
ask  you  to  let  me  say  a  few  selfish,  no  less  than  congratulatory 
words — selfish,  inasmuch  as  they  bear  on  this  visible  exposition 
of  a  principle  which  it  has  long  been  one  of  my  most  earnest 
aims  to  maintain.  We  English  call  ourselves  a  practical 
people ;  but,  nevertheless,  there  are  some  of  our  best  and  most 
general  instincts  which  it  takes  us  half-centuries  to  put  into 
practice.  Probably  no  educated  Englishman  or  English- 
woman has  ever,  for  the  last  forty  years,  visited  Scotland,  with 
leisure  on  their  hands,  without  making  a  pilgrimage  to  Mel- 
rose ;  nor  have  they  ever,  1  suppose,  accomplished  the  pil- 
grimage without  singing  to  themselves  the  burden  of  Scott/s 
description  of  the  Abbey.  Nor  in  that  description  (may  it 
not  also  be  conjectured?)  do  they  usually  feel  any  couplets 
more  deeply  than  the— 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


139 


"  Spreading  herbs  and  flowerets  bright 
Glistened  with  the  dew  of  night. 
No  herb  nor  floweret  glistened  there 
But  was  carved  in  the  cloister  arches  as  fair." 

And  yet,  though  we  are  raising  every  year  in  England  new 
examples  of  every  kind  of  costly  and  variously  intended  build- 
ings,— ecclesiastical,  civil,  and  domestic, — none  of  us,  through 
all  that  period,  had  boldness  enough  to  put  the  pretty  couplets 
into  simple  practice.  We  went  on,  even  in  the  best  Gothic 
work  we  attempted,  clumsily  copying  the  rudest  ornaments  of 
previous  buildings  ;  we  never  so  much  as  dreamed  of  learn- 
ing from  the  monks  of  Melrose,  and  seeking  for  help  beneath 
the  dew  that  sparkled  on  their  "gude  kail"  garden.1 

Your  Museum  at  Oxford  is  literally  the  first  building  raised 
in  England  since  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century,  which  has 
fearlessly  put  to  new  trial  this  old  faith  in  nature,  and  in  the 
genius  of  the  unassisted  workman,  who  gathered  out  of  nature 
the  materials  he  needed.  I  am  entirely  glad,  therefore,  that 
you  have  decided  on  engraving  for  publication  one  of  O'Shea's 
capitals  ; 2  it  will  be  a  complete  type  of  the  whole  work,  in  its 
inner  meaning,  and  far  better  to  show  one  of  them  in  its  com- 
pleteness than  to  give  any  reduced  sketch  of  the  building. 
Nevertheless,  beautiful  as  that  capital  is,  and  as  all  the  rest  of 
O'Shea's  work  is  likely  to  be,  it  is  not  yet  perfect  Gothic 
sculpture  ;  and  it  might  give  rise  to  dangerous  error,  if  the 
admiration  given  to  these  carvings  were  unqualified. 

I  cannot,  of  course,  enter  in  this  letter  into  any  discussion 
of  the  question,  more  and  more  vexed  among  us  daily,  respect- 

1  '  f  The  monks  of  Melrose  made  good  kail 
On  Friday,  when  they  fasted.*1 
The  kail  leaf  is  the  one  principally  employed  in  the  decorations  of  the 
abbey.    (Original  note  to  The  Oxford  Museum,  p.  83.) 

'2  This  engraving,  which  formed  the  frontispiece  of  The  Oxford 
Museum,  will  be  found  facing  the  title-rjage  of  the  present  volume,  the 
original  plate  having  proved  in  excellent  condition.  O'Shea  was,  to- 
gether with  others  of  his  name  and  family,  amongst  the  principal  work- 
men on  the  building.  The  capital  represents  the  following  ferns  :  the 
common  bart's-tongue  'scolopendrium  vulgare),  the  northern  hard-fern 
(blechnum  boreale),  and  the  male  fern  (filix  mas;. 


140 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACK 


ing  the  due  meaning  and  scope  of  conventionalism  in  treat- 
ment of  natural  form  ;  but  I  may  state  briefly  what,  I  trust, 
will  be  the  conclusion  to  which  all  this  "vexing"  will  at  last 
lead  our  best  architects. 

The  highest  art  in  all  kinds  is  that  which  conveys  the  most 
truth  ;  and  the  best  ornamentation  possible  would  be  the 
painting  of  interior  walls  with  frescos  by  Titian,  representing 
perfect  Humanity  in  color ;  and  the  sculpture  of  exterior  walls 
by  Phidias,  representing  perfect  Humanity  in  form.  Titian 
and  Phidias  are  precisely  alike  in  their  conception  and  treat- 
ment of  nature — everlasting  standards  of  the  right. 

Beneath  ornamentation,  such  as  men  like  these  could  be- 
stow, falls  in  various  rank,  according  to  its  subordination  to 
vulgar  uses  or  inferior  places,  what  is  commonly  conceived  as 
ornamental  art.  The  lower  its  office,  and  the  less  tractable  its 
material,  the  less  of  nature  it  should  contain,  until  a  zigzag 
becomes  the  best  ornament  for  the  hem  of  a  robe,  and  a 
mosaic  of  bits  of  glass  the  best  design  for  a  colored  window. 
But  all  these  forms  of  lower  art  are  to  be  conventional  only 
because  they  are  subordinate — not  because  conventionalism  is 
in  itself  a  good  or  desirable  thing.  All  right  conventionalism 
is  a  wise  acceptance  of,  and  compliance  with,  conditions  of 
restraint  or  inferiority  :  it  may  be  inferiority  of  our  knowledge 
or  power,  as  in  the  art  of  a  semi-savage  nation  ;  or  restraint 
by  reason  of  material,  as  in  the  way  the  glass  painter  should 
restrict  himself  to  transparent  hue,  and  a  sculptor  deny  him- 
self the  eyelash  and  the  film  of  flowing  hair,  which  he  cannot 
cut  in  marble  :  but  in  all  cases  whatever,  right  conventional- 
ism is  either  a  wise  acceptance  of  an  inferior  place,  or  a  noble 
display  of  power  under  accepted  limitation  ;  it  is  not  an  im- 
provement of  natural  form  into  something  better  or  purer 
than  Nature  herself. 

Now  this  great  and  most  precious  principle  may  be  com- 
promised in  two  quite  opposite  ways.  It  is  conrproniised  on 
one  side  when  men  suppose  that  the  degradation  of  a  natural 
form  which  fits  it  for  some  subordinate  place  is  an  improvement 
of  it  ;  and  that  a  black  profile  on  a  red  ground,  because  it  is 
proper  on  a' water-jug,  is  therefore  an  idealization  of  Humanity, 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


141 


and  nobler  art  than  a  picture  of  Titian.  And  it  is  compro- 
mised equally  gravely  on  the  opposite  side,  when  men  refuse 
to  submit  to  the  limita- 
tion of  material  and  the 
fitnesses  of  office — when 
they  try  to  produce  fin- 
ished pictures  in  colored 
glass,  or  substitute  the 
inconsiderate  imitation 
of  natural  objects  for  the 
perfectness  of  adapted 
and  disciplined  design. 

There  is  a  tendency 
in  the  work  of  the  Ox- 
ford Museum  to  err  on 
this  last  side  ;  unavoid- 
able, indeed,  in  the  pres- 
ent state  of  our  art- 
knowledge — and  less  to 
be  regretted  in  a  build- 
ing devoted  to  natural 
science  than  in  any 
other  :  nevertheless,  I 
cannot  close  this  letter 
without  pointing  it  out, 
and  warning  the  general 
reader  against  suppos- 
ing that  the  ornamenta- 
tion of  the  Museum  is, 
or  can  be  as  yet,  a  rep- 
resentation of  what 
Gothic  work  will  be, 
when  its  revival  is  com- 
plete.    Far  more  Severe,  £i7rom  "  The  Oxford  Museum/  p.  89.] 

yet  more  perfect  and  lovely,  that  work  will  involve,  under 
sterner  conventional  restraint,  the  expression  nqt  only  of 
natural  form,  but  of  all  vital  and  noble  natural  law.  For 
the  truth  of  decoration  is  never  to  be  measured  by  its  imita- 


142 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACE. 


tive  power,  but  by  its  suggestive  and  informative  power.  In 
the  spandril  of  the  iron-work  of  our  roof,  for  instance,  on  p.  141, 
the  horse-chestnut  leaf  and  nut  are  used  as  the  principal  ele- 
ments of  form  ;  they  are  not  ill-arranged,  and  produce  a  more 
agreeable  effect  than  convolutions  of  the  iron  could  have  given, 
unhelped  by  any  reference  to  natural  objects.  Nevertheless, 
I  do  not  call  it  an  absolutely  good  design  ;  for  it  would  have 
been  possible,  with  far  severer  conventional  treatment  of  the 
iron  bars,  and  stronger  constructive  arrangement  of  them,  to 
have  given  vigorous  expression,  not  of  the  shapes  of  leaves  and 
nuts  only,  but  of  their  peculiar  radiant  or  fanned  expansion, 
and  other  conditions  of  group  and  growth  in  the  tree  ;  which 
would  have  been  just  the  more  beautiful  and  interesting,  as 
they  would  have  arisen  from  deeper  research  into  nature,  and 
more  adaptive  modifying  power  in  the  designer's  mind,  than 
the  mere  leaf  termination  of  a  riveted  scroll. 

I  am  compelled  to  name  these  deficiences,  in  order  to  pre- 
vent misconception  of  the  principles  we  are  endeavoring  to 
enforce  ;  but  I  do  not  name  them  as  at  present  to  be  avoided, 
or  even  much  to  be  regretted.  They  are  not  chargeable  either 
on  the  architect,  or  on  the  subordinate  workmen  ;  but  only 
on  the  system  which  has  for  three  centuries  withheld  all  of  us 
from  healthy  study  ;  and  although  I  doubt  not  that  lovelier 
and  juster  expressions  of  the  Gothic  principle  will  be  ulti- 
mately aimed  at  by  us,  than  any  which  are  possible  in  the  Ox- 
ford Museum,  its  builders  will  never  lose  their  claim  to  our 
chief  gratitude,  as  the  first  guides  in  a  right  direction  ;  and 
the  building  itself— the  first  exponent  of  the  recovered  truth 
—will  only  be  the  more  venerated  the  more  it  is  excelled. 
Believe  me,  my  dear  Acland, 

Ever  affectionately  yours, 

J.  BuSKES* 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


143 


[From  ;<  The  Witness,"  (Edinburgh),  September  16,  1857.] 

THE  CASTLE  ROCK. 

Dunbar,  lAtli  September,  1857. 

To  the  Editor  of  tl  The  Witness." 

My  dear  Sir  :  As  I  was  leaving  Edinburgh,  this  morning,  I 
heard  a  report  which  gave  me  more  concern  than  I  can  easily 
express,  and  very  sufficiently  spoiled  the  pleasure  of  my  drive 
here.  If  there  be  no  truth  in  the  said  report,  of  course  take 
no  notice  of  this  letter ;  but  if  there  be  real  ground  for  my 
fears,  I  trust  you  will  allow  me  space  in  your  columns  for  a 
few  words  on  the  subject. 

The  whisper — I  hope  I  may  say,  the  calumny — regarded 
certain  proceedings  which  are  taking  place  at  the  Castle.  It 
was  said  to  be  the  architect's  intention  to  cut  down  into  the 
brow  of  the  Castle  rock,  in  order  to  afford  secure  foundation 
for  some  new  buildings.1 

Now,  the  Castle  rock  of  Edinburgh  is,  as  far  as  I  know, 
simply  the  noblest  in  Scotland  conveniently  approachable  by 
any  creatures  but  sea-gulls  or  peewits.  Ailsa  and  the  Bass  are 
of  course  more  wonderful ;  and,  I  suppose,  in  the  West  High- 
lands there  are  masses  of  crag  more  wild  and  fantastic  ;  but 
people  only  go  to  see  these  once  or  twice  in  their  lives,  while 
the  Castle  rock  has  a  daily  influence  in  forming  the  taste,  or 
kindling  the  imagination,  of  every  promising  youth  in  Edin- 
burgh. Even  irrespectively  of  its  position,  it  is  a  mass  of 
singular  importance  among  the  rocks  of  Scotland.  It  is  not 
easy  to  find  among  your  mountains  a  "  craig  "  of  so  definite  a 
form,  and  on  so  magnificent  a  scale.  Among  the  central  hills 
of  Scotland,  from  Ben  Wyvis  to  the  Lammermuirs,  I  know  of 
none  comparable  to  it ;  while,  besides  being  bold  and  vast,  its 
bars  of  basalt  are  so  nobly  arranged,  and  form  a  series  of 
curves  at  once  so  majestic  and  harmonious,  from  the  turf  at 
their  base  to  the  roots  of  the.  bastions,  that  as  long  as  your 
artists  have  that  crag  to  study,  I  do  not  see  that  they  need 
casts  from  Michael  Angelo,  or  any  one  else,  to  teach  them 
the  laws  of  composition  or  the  sources  of  sublimity. 

1  A  new  armory  was  to  be  added  to  the  Castle. 


144 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CITACE. 


But  if  you  once  cut  into  the  brow  of  it,  all  is  over.  Dis. 
turb,  in  any  single  point,  the  simple  lines  in  which  the  walla 
now  advance  and  recede  upon  the  tufted  grass  of  its  summit, 
and  you  may  as  well  make  a  quarry  of  it  at  once,  and  blast 
away  rock,  Castle,  and  all.  It  admits  of  some  question 
whether  the  changes  made  in  the  architecture  of  your  city  of 
late  years  are  in  every  case  improvements  ;  but  very  certainly 
you  cannot  improve  the  architecture  of  your  volcanic  crags  by 
any  explosive  retouches.  And  your  error  will  be  wholly  ir- 
remediable. You  may  restore  Trinity  Chapel,  or  repudiate 
its  restoration,  at  your  pleasure,  but  there  will  be  no  need  to 
repudiate  restoration  of  the  Castle  rock.  You  cannot  re-face 
nor  re-rivet  that,  nor  order  another  in  a  "similar  style."  It 
is  a  dangerous  kind  of  engraving  which  you  practise  on  so 
large  a  jewel.  But  I  trust  I  am  wasting  my  time  in  writing 
of  this  :  I  cannot  believe  the  report,  nor  think  that  the  people 
of  Edinburgh,  usually  so  proud  of  their  city,  are  yet  so  un- 
aware of  what  constitutes  its  chief  nobleness,  and  so  utterly 
careless  of  the  very  features  of  its  scenery,  which  have  been 
the  means  of  the  highest  and  purest  education  to  their  greatest 
men,  as  to  allow  this  rock  to  be  touched.  If  the  works  are  con- 
fined to  the  inside  of  the  wall,  no  harm  will  be  done  ;  but  let 
a  single  buttress,  or  a  single  cleft,  encumber  or  divide  its  outer 
brow,  and  there  is  not  a  man  of  sensibility  or  sense  in  Edin- 
burgh who  will  not  blush  and  grieve  for  it  as  long  as  he  lives. 
Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  very  faithfully  yours, 

J.  EUSKIN. 


[From  "  The  Witness1''  (Edinburgh),  September  30,  1857.] 

EDINBURGH  CASTLE. 

Penrith,  21th  September. 

To  the  Editor  of  ' 5  The  Witness:' 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  see  by  some  remarks  in  the  Literary  Gazette 1 
on  the  letter  of  mine  to  which  you  gave  a  place  in  your  col- 

1  The  Literary  Gazette  of  September  26,  1857,  after  quoting  a  great 
part  of  the  previous  letter,  stated  that  the  new  armory  was  not  to  be 
built  without  all  due  regard  to  the  preservation  of  the  rock,  and  that 
there  was  therefore  no  real  cause  for  alarm. 


LETTERS  0Ar  ART. 


145 


umns  of  the  16th,  that  the  design  of  the  proposed  additions 
to  Edinburgh  Castle  is  receiving  really  serious  consideration. 
Perhaps,  therefore,  a  few  words  respecting  the  popular  but 
usually  unprofitable  business  of  castle-building  may  be  of  some 
interest  to  your  readers.  We  are  often  a  little  confused  in  our 
ideas  respecting  the  nature  of  a  castle — properly  so  called.  A 
"  castle  "  is  a  fortified  dwelling-house  containing  accommoda- 
tion for  as  many  retainers  as  are  needed  completely  to  defend 
its  position.  A  ' "fortress"  is  a  fortified  military  position,  gen- 
erally understood  to  be  extensive  enough  to  contain  large 
bodies  of  troops.  And  a  "  citadel,"  a  fortified  military  position 
connected  with  a  fortified  town,  and  capable  of  holding  out 
even  if  the  town  were  taken. 

It  is  as  well  to  be  clear  on  these  points  :  for  certain  condi- 
tions of  architecture  are  applicable  and  beautiful  in  each  case, 
according  to  the  use  and  character  of  the  building  ;  and  cer- 
tain other  conditions  are  in  like  manner  inapplicable  and  ugly, 
because  contrary  to  its  character,  and  unhelpful  to  its  use. 

Now  this  helpfulness  and  unhelpfulness  in  architectural 
features  depends,  of  course,  primarily  on  the  military  practice 
of  the  time  ;  so  that  forms  which  were  grand,  because  rational, 
before  gunpowder  was  invented,  are  ignoble,  because  ridicu- 
lous, in  days  of  shell  and  shot.  The  very  idea  and  possibility 
of  the  castle  proper  have  passed  away  with  the  arms  of  the 
middle  ages.  A  man's  house  might  be  defended  by  his  ser- 
vants against  a  troop  of  cavalry,  if  its  doors  were  solid  and  it& 
battlements  pierced.  But  it  cannot  be  defended  against  a 
couple  of  field-pieces,  whatever  the  thickness  of  its  oak,  or 
number  of  its  arrow-slits. 

I  regret,  as  much  as  any  one  can  regret,  the  loss  of  castel- 
lated architecture  properly  so  called.  Nothing  can  be  more 
noble  or  interesting  than  the  true  thirteenth  or  fourteenth  cen- 
tury castle,  when  built  in  a  difficult  position,  its  builder  taking 
advantage  of  every  inch  of  ground  to  gain  more  room,  and  of 
every  irregularity  of  surface  for  purposes  of  outlook  and  de- 
fence ;  so  that  the  castle  sate  its  rock  as  a  strong  rider  sits  his 
horse — fitting  its  limbs  to  every  writhe  of  the  flint  beneath  it ; 
and  fringing  the  mountain  promontory  far  into  the  sky  with 


146 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  CHACE. 


the  wild  crests  of  its  fantastic  battlements.  Of  such  castles  we 
can  see  no  more  ;  and  it  is  just  because  I  know  them  well  and 
love  them  deeply  that  I  say  so.  I  know  that  their  power  and 
dignity  consists,  just  as  a  soldier's  consists,  in  their  knowing 
and  doing  their  work  thoroughly  ;  in  their  being  advanced  on 
edge  or  lifted  on  peak  of  crag,  not  for  show  nor  pride,  but  for 
due  guard  and  outlook  ;  and  that  all  their  beautiful  irregular* 
ities  and  apparent  caprices  of  form  are  in  reality  their  fulfil- 
ments of  need,  made  beautiful  by  their  compelled  association 
with  the  wild  strength  and  grace  of  the  natural  rock.  All 
attempts  to  imitate  them  now  are  useless — mere  girl's  play. 
Mind,  I  like  girl's  play,  and  child's  play,  in  its  place,  but  not 
in  the  planning  of  military  buildings.  Child's  play  in  many 
cases  is  the  truest  wisdom.  I  accept  to  the  full  the  truth  of 
those  verses  of  Wordsworth's  1  beginning — 

"  Who  fancied  what  a  pretty  sight 
This  rock  would  be,  if  edged  around 
With  living  snowdrops  V— circlet  bright  I 
How  glorious  to  this  orchard  ground ! 
Was  it  the  humor  of  a  child  ?  "  etc. 

But  I  cannot  apply  the  same  principles  to  more  serious 
matters,  and  vary  the  reading  of  the  verses  into  application  to 
the  works  of  Edinburgh  Castle,  thus  : 

"  Who  fancied  what  a  pretty  sight 
This  rock  would  be,  if  edged  around 
With  tiny  turrets,  pierced  and  light, 
How  glorious  to  this  warlike  ground !  ]' 

Therefore,  though  I  do  not  know  exactly  what  you  have  got 
to  do  in  Edinburgh  Castle,  whatever  it  may  be,  I  am  certain 
the  only  right  way  to  do  it  is  the  plain  way.  Build  what  is 
needed — chapel,  barracks,  or  dwelling-house — in  the  best 
places,  in  a  military  point  of  view,  of  dark  stone,  and  bomb- 

1  Poems  of  the  Fancy,  xiv.  (1803).  The  quotation  omits  two  lines  ai'tci 
the  fourth : 

"  Who  loved  the  little  rock,  and  set 
Upon  its  head  this  coronet 

The  second  stanza  then  begin*  :  "  Was  it  the  humor  of  a  child  ?'"  etc 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


147 


proof,  keeping  them  low,  and  within  the  existing  lines  of 
ramparts. 

That  is  the  rational  thing  to  do  ;  and  the  inhabitants  of 
Edinburgh  will  find  it  in  the  end  the  picturesque  thing.  It 
would  be  so  under  any  circumstances  :  but  it  is  especially  so 
in  this  instance  ;  for  the  grandeur  of  Edinburgh  Castle  de- 
pends eminently  on  the  great,  unbroken,  yet  beautifully  varied 
parabolic  curve  in  which  it  descends  from  the  Round  Tower  on 
the  Castle  Hill  to  the  terminating  piece  of  impendent  preci- 
pice on  the  north.  It  is  the  last  grand  feature  of  Edinburgh 
left  as  yet  uninjured.  You  have  filled  up  your  valley  with  a 
large  chimney,  a  mound,  and  an  Institution  ;  broken  in  upon 
the  Old  Town  with  a  Bank,  a  College,  and  several  fires  ; 
dwarfed  the  whole  of  Princes  Street  by  the  Scott  Monument  ; 
and  cut  Arthur's  Seat  in  half  by  the  Queen's  Drive.  It  only 
remains  for  .you  to  spoil  the  curve  of  your  Castle,  and  your 
illustrations  of  the  artistic  principle  of  breadth  will  be  com- 
plete. 

It  may  appear  at  first  that  I  depart  from  the  rule  of  use- 
fulness I  have  proposed,  in  entreating  for  the  confinement  of 
all  buildings  undertaken  within  the  existing  ramparts,  in  order 
to  preserve  the  contour  of  the  outside  rock.  But  I  presume 
that  in  the  present  state  of  military  science,  and  of  European 
politics,  Edinburgh  Castle  is  not  a  very  important  military 
position  ;  and  that  to  make  it  a  serviceable  fortress  or  citadel, 
many  additional  works  would  be  required,  seriously  interfer- 
ing with  the  convenience  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  New  Town, 
and  with  the  arrangements  of  the  Railroad  Company.  And, 
as  long  as  these  subordinate  works  are  not  carried  out,  I  do 
not  see  any  use  in  destroying  your  beautiful  rock,  merely  to 
bring  another  gun  to  bear,  or  give  accommodation  to  another 
company.  But  I  both  see,  and  would  earnestly  endeavor  to 
advocate,  the  propriety  of  keeping  the  architecture  of  the 
building  within  those  ramparts  masculine  and  simple  in  style, 
and  of  not  allowing  a  mistaken  conception  of  picturesqueness 
to  make  a  noble  fortress  look  like  a  child's  toy. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  very  faithfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


148 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACE. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  December  22,  1871.] 

CASTLES  AND  KENNELS. 

To  the  Editor  of'1  The  Daily  Telegraph:' 

Sir  :  I  was  astonished  the  other  day  by  your  article  on 
taverns,  but  never  yet  in  my  life  was  so  much  astonished  by 
anything  in  print  as  by  your  to-day's  article  on  castles.1 

I  am  a  castle-lover  of  the  truest  sort.  I  do  not  suppose 
any  man  alive  has  felt  anything  like  the  sorrow  or  anger  with 
which  I  have  watched  the  modern  destruction  by  railroad  and 
manufacture,  helped  by  the  wicked  improvidence  of  our  great 
families,  of  half  the  national  memorials  of  England,  either 
actually  or  in  effect  and  power  of  association — as  Conway,  for 
instance,  now  vibrating  to  ruin  over  a  railroad  station.  For 
Warwick  Castle,  I  named  it  in  my  letter  of  last  October,  in 
"  Fors  Clavigera,"  2  as  a  type  of  the  architectural  treasures  of 


1  The  article  on  taverns  occurred  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  the  8th 
December,  and  commented  on  a  recent  meeting  of  the  Licensed  Victual- 
lers' Protection  Society.  There  was  also  a  short  article  upon  drunken- 
ness as  a  cause  of  crime  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  December  9 — referred 
to  by  Mr.  Ruskin  in  a  letter  which  will  be  found  in  the  second  volume 
of  this  book.  The  article  on  castles  concluded  with  an  appeal  for  pub- 
lic subscriptions  towards  the  restoration  of  Warwick  Castle,  then  recently 
destroyed  by  fire. 

2  The  passage  alluded  to  is  partly  as  follows:  1  'It  happened  also, 
which  was  the  real  cause  of  my  bias  in  after-life,  that  my  father  had  a 
real  love  of  pictures.  .  .  .  Accordingly,  wherever  there  was  a  gallery  to 
be  seen,  we  stopped  at  the  nearest  town  for  the  night  ;  and  in  reverent- 
est  manner  I  thus  saw  nearly  all  the  noblemen's  houses  in  England  ; 
not  indeed  myself  at  that  age  caring  for  the  pictures,  but  much  for  castles 
and  ruins,  feeling  more  and  more,  as  I  grew  older,  the  healthy  delight 
of  uncovetous  admiration,  and  perceiving,  as  soon  as  I  could  perceive 
any  political  truth  at  all,  that  it  was  probably  much  happier  to  live  in  a 
small  house  and  have  Warwick  Castle  to  be  astonished  at,  than  to  live 
in  Warwick  Castle,  and  have  nothing  to  be  astonished  at  ;  and  that,  at 
all  events,  it  would  not  make  Brunswick  Square  in  the  least  more  pleas- 
antly habitable  to  pull  WTarwick  Castle  down.  And,  at  this  day,  though 
J  have  kind  invitations  enough  to  visit  America,  I  could  not,  even  for  a 
couple  of  months,  live  in  a  country  so  miserable  as  to  possess  no 
castles." 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


149 


this  England  of  ours  known  to  me  and  beloved  from  child- 
hood to  this  hour. 

But,  Sir,  I  am  at  this  hour  endeavoring  to  find  work  and 
food  for  a  boy  of  seventeen,  one  of  eight  people — two  married 
couples,  a  woman  and  her  daughter,  and  this  boy  and  his  sis- 
ter— who  all  sleep  together  in  one  room,  some  18  ft.  square, 
in  the  heart  of  London  ;  and  you  call  upon  me  for  a  subscrip- 
tion to  help  to  rebuild  Warwick  Castle. 

Sir,  I  am  an  old  and  thoroughbred  Tory,  and  as  such  I  say, 
"  If  a  noble  family  cannot  rebuild  their  own  castle,  in  God's 
name  let  them  live  in  the  nearest  ditch  till  they  can." 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  RlJSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  Dec.  20. 

[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,1'  December  25,  1871.] 

VERONA  v.  WARWICK 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  : — Of  lodging  for  poor  and  rich  you  will  perhaps  permit 
a  further  word  or  two  from  me,  even  in  your  close  columns 
for  Christmas  morning.  You  think  me  inconsistent  because  I 
wanted  to  buy  Verona,  and  do  not  want  to  restore  Warwick.1 

I  wanted,  and  still  want,  to  buy  Verona.  I  would  give  half 
my  fortune  to  buy  it  for  England,  if  any  other  people  would 
help  me.  But  I  would  buy  it,  that  what  is  left  of  it  might 
not  be  burned,  and  what  is  lost  of  it  not  restored.  It  would 
indeed  be  very  pleasant — not  to  me  only,  but  to  many  other 
sorrowful  persons — if  things  could  be  restored  when  we  chose, 
I  would  subscribe  willingly  to  restore,  for  instance,  the  man- 
ger wherein  the  King  of  Judah  lay  cradled  this  day  some 
years  since,  and  not  unwillingly  to  restore  the  poorer  cradle 
of  our  English  King-maker,  were  it  possible.    But  for  the 

1  In  a  second  article  npon  the  same  subject  the  Daily  Telegraph  had 
expressed  surprise  at  Mr.  Ruskin's  former  letter.  "  Who  does  not  re- 
member," it  wrote,  "  his  proposal  to  buy  Verona,  so  as  to  secure  from 
decay  the  glorious  monuments  in  it  ?  " 


150 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CBACE. 


making  of  a  new  manger,  to  be  exhibited  for  the  edification 
of  the  religious  British  public,  I  will  not  subscribe.  No  ;  nor 
for  the  building  of  mock  castles,  or  mock  cathedrals,  or  mocks 
of  anything.  And  the  sum  of  what  I  have  to  say  in  this  pres- 
ent matter  may  be  put  in  few  words. 

As  an  antiquary — which,  thank  Heaven,  I  am — I  say,  "Part 
of  Warwick  Castle  is  burnt — 'tis  pity.  Take  better  care  of 
the  rest." 

As  an  old  Tory — which,  thank  Heaven,  I  am — I  say,  "  Lord 
Warwick's  house  is  burned.  Let  Lord  Warwick  build  a  better 
if  he  can — a  worse  if  he  must ;  but  in  any  case,  let  him  neither 
beg  nor  borrow." 

As  a  modern  renovator  and  Liberal — which,  thank  Heaven, 
I  am  not — I  would  say,  "By  all  means  let  the  public  subscribe 
to  build  a  spick-and-span  new  Warwick  Castle,  and  let  the  pict- 
ures be  touched  up,  and  exhibited  by  gaslight ;  let  the  family 
live  in  the  back  rooms,  and  let  there  be  a  table  d'hote  in  the  great 
hall  at  two  and  six  every  day,  2s.  6d.  a  head,  and  let  us  have 
Guy's  bowl  for  a  dinner  bell." 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

John  Buskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  S.E.,  24th  (for  25^)  December. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph, "  January  19,  1871.] 

"NOTRE  DAME  DE  PARIS:' 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  It  may  perhaps  be  interesting  to  some  of  your  readers, 
in  the  present  posture  of  affairs  round  Paris,  to  know,  as  far  as 
I  am  able  to  tell  them,  the  rank  which  the  Church  of  Notre 
Dame  holds  among  architectural  and  historical  monuments. 

Nearly  every  great  church  in  France  has  some  merit  special 
to  itself  ;  in  other  countries,  one  style  is  common  to  many  dis- 
tricts ;  in  Prance,  nearly  every  province  has  its  unique  and 
precious  monument. 

But  of  thirteenth-century  Gothic — the  most  perfect  archi- 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


151 


tectural  style  north  of  the  Alps — there  is,  both  in  historical 
Interest,  and  in  accomplished  perfectness  of  art,  one  unique 
monument — the  Sainte  Chapelle  of  Paris. 

As  examples  of  Gothic,  ranging  from  the  twelfth  to  the 
fourteenth  century,  the  cathedrals  of  Chartres,  Rouen,  Amiens, 
Eheims,  and  Bourges,  form  a  kind  of  cinque-foil  round  Notre 
Dame  of  Paris,  of  which  it  is  impossible  to  say  which  is  the 
more  precious  petal ;  but  any  of  those  leaves  would  be  wrorth 
a  complete  rose  of  any  other  country's  work  except  Italy's. 
Nothing  else  in  art,  on  the  surface  of  the  round  earth,  could 
represent  any  one  of  them,  if  destroyed,  or  be  named  as  of  any 
equivalent  value. 

Central  among  these,  as  in  position,  so  in  its  school  of 
sculpture  ;  unequalled  in  that  specialty  but  by  the  porch  of 
the  north  transept  of  Rouen,  and,  in  a  somewhat  later  school, 
by  the  western  porches  of  Bourges  ;  absolutely  unreplaceabie 
as  a  pure  and  lovely  source  of  art  instruction  by  any  future 
energy  or  ingenuity,  stands — perhaps,  this  morning,  I  ought 
rather  to  write,  stood1  — Notre  Dame  of  Paris. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


[Prom  "The Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  March  16,  1872.] 

MR.  RUSKIN 8  INFLUENCE:  A  DEFENCE. 

To  the  Editor  of  liTM  Pall  Mall  Gazette." 

Sir  :  I  receive  many  letters  just  now  requesting  me  to  take 
notice  of  the  new  theory  respecting  Turner's  work  put  forward 
by  Dr.  Liebreich  in  his  recent  lecture  at  the  Royal  Institution.2 

1  This  letter,  it  will  be  noticed,  was  written  during  the  bombardment 
and  a  few  days  before  the  capitulation  of  Paris  in  1871. 

2  On  Friday,  March  8,  1872,  entitled  Turner  and  Mulready— On  the 
Effect  of  certain  Faults  of  Vision  on  Painting,  with  especial  reference  to 
their  Works  The  argument  of  the  lecturer,  and  distinguished  oculist, 
was  that  the  change  of  style  in  the  pictures  of  Turner  was  due  to  a  change 
in  luseyes  which  developed  itself  during  the  last  twenty  years  of  his  life* 
(See  Proceedings  of  the  Royal  Institution,  1872,  vol.  vi.r  p.  450.) 


152 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


Will  you  permit  me  to  observe  in  your  columns,  once  for  all. 
that  I  have  no  time  for  the  contradiction  of  the  various  foolish 
opinions  and  assertions  which  from  time  to  time  are  put  for- 
ward respecting  Turner  or  his  pictures  ?  All  that  is  necessary 
for  any  person  generally  interested  in  the  arts  to  know  about 
Turner  was  clearly  stated  in  f?  Modern  Painters  "  twenty  years 
ago,  and  I  do  not  mean  to  state  it  again,  nor  to  contradict  any 
contradictions  of  it.  Dr.  Liebreich  is  an  ingenious  and  zeal- 
ous scientific  person.  The  public  may  derive  much  benefit 
from  consulting  him  on  the  subject  of  spectacles — not  on  that 
of  art. 

As  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  writing  to  you  at  any  rate, 
may  I  say  further  that  I  wish  your  critic  of  Mr.  Eastlake 's 
book  1  on  the  Gothic  revival  would  explain  what  he  means  by 
saying  that  my  direct  influence  on  architecture  is  always 
wrong,  and  my  indirect  influence  right  ;  because,  if  that  be  so, 
I  will  try  to  exercise  only  indirect  influence  on  my  Oxford 
pupils.  But  the  fact  to  my  own  notion  is  otherwise.  I  am 
proud  enough  to  hope,  for  instance,  that  I  have  had  some 


1  A  History  of  the  Gothic  Revival.  By  CharlesL.  Eastlake,  F.R.I.B.A. 
London,  Longman  and  Co.,  1872. — In  this  work  Mr.  Eastlake  had  esti- 
mated very  highly  Mr.  Ruskin's  influence  on  modern  architecture, 
whilst  his  reviewer  was  "  disposed  to  say  that  Mr.  Ruskin's  direct  and 
immediate  influences  had  almost  always  been  in  the  wrong  ;  and  his 
more  indirect  influences  as  often  in  the  right."  It  is  upon  these  words 
that  Mr.  Ruskin  comments  here,  and  to  this  comment  the  critic  replied 
in  a  letter  which  appeared  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of  the  20th  inst. 
The  main  portion  of  his  reply  was  as  follows:  "The  direct  influences, 
then,  which  I  had  principally  in  my  mind  were  those  which  had  resulted 
in  a  preference  for  Venetian  over  English  Gothic,  in  the  underrating  of 
expressional  character  in  architecture,  and  the  overrating  of  sculptured 
ornament,  especially  of  a  naturalistic  and  imitative  character,  and  more 
generally  in  an  exclusiveness  which  limited  the  due  influence  of  some, 
as  I  think,  noble  styles  of  architecture.  By  the  indirect  influences  I 
meant  the  habit  of  looking  at  questions  of  architectural  art  in  the  light 
of  imaginative  ideas ;  the  recognition  of  the  vital  importance  of  such 
questions  even  in  their  least  important  details ;  and  generally  an  enthu- 
siasm and  activity  which  could  have  resulted  from  no  less  a  force  than 
Mr.  Ruskin's  wondrously  suggestive  genius."  To  this  explanation  Mr. 
Ruskin  replied  in  his  second  letter  on  the  subject. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


153 


direct  influence  on  Mr.  Street ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  but  that 
the  public  will  have  more  satisfaction  from  his  Law  Courts  1 
than  they  have  had  from  anything  built  within  fifty  years. 
But  I  have  had  indirect  influence  on  nearly  every  cheap  villa- 
builder  between  this 2  and  Bromley  ;  and  there  is  scarcely  a 
public-house  near  the  Crystal  Palace  but  sells  its  gin  and  bit- 
ters under  pseudo-Venetian  capitals  copied  from  the  Church 
of  the  Madonna  of  Health  or  of  Miracles.  And  one  of  my 
principal  notions  for  leaving  my  present  house  is  that  it  is 
surrounded  everywhere  by  the  accursed  Frankenstein  monsters 
of,  indirectly,  my  own  making. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

John  Ruskin. 

March  15. 

[From  "The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  March  81,  1872.] 

MR.  RUSKIN' S  INFLUENCE :  A  REJOINDER. 
To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette:1 

.  Sir  :  I  am  obliged  by  your  critic's  reply  to  my  question, 
but  beg  to  observe  that,  meaning  what  he  explains  himself  to 
have  meant,  he  should  simply  have  said  that  my  influence  on 
temper  was  right,  and  on  taste  wrong  ;  the  influence  being  in 
both  cases  equally  "  direct."  On  questions  of  taste  I  will  not 
venture  into  discussion  with  him,  but  must  be  permitted  to 
correct  his  statement  that  I  have  persuaded  any  one  to  prefer 
Venetian  to  English  Gothic.  I  have  stated  that  Italian — 
chiefly  Pisan  and  Florentine — Gothic  is  the  noblest  school  of 
Gothic  hitherto  existent,  which  is  true  ;  and  that  one  form  of 
Venetian  Gothic  deserves  singular  respect  for  the  manner  of 
its  development.    I  gave  the  mouldings  and  shaft  measure- 

1  Mr.  Street's  design  for  the  New  Law  Courts  was,  after  much  discus- 
sion, selected,  May  30, 18G8,  and  approved  by  commission,  August,  1870. 
The  building  was  not,  however,  begun  till  February,  1874,  and  the  hope 
expressed  in  this  letter  is  therefore,  unfortunately,  no  expression  of 
opinion  on  the  work  itself. 

2  Denmark  Hill. 


154 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  A  CE. 


merits  of  that  form,1  and  to  so  little  purpose,  that  I  challenge 
your  critic  to  find  in  London,  or  within  twenty  miles  of  it,  a 
single  Venetian  casement  built  on  the  sections  which  I  gave 
as  normal.  For  Venetian  architecture  developed  out  of  British 
moral  consciousness  I  decline  to  be  answerable.  His  accusa- 
tion that  I  induced  architects  to  study  sculpture  more,  and 
what  he  is  pleased  to  call  "  expressional  character  "  less,  I  ad- 
mit. I  should  be  glad  if  he  would  tell  me  what,  before  my 
baneful  influence  began  to  be  felt,  the  expressional  character 
of  our  building  was  ;  and  I  will  reconsider  my  principles  if  he 
can  point  out  to  me,  on  any  modern  building  either  in  London 
or,  as  aforesaid,  within  twenty  miles  round,  a  single  piece  of 
good  sculpture  of  which  the  architect  repents,  or  the  public 
complains. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  Ruskin. 

March  21. 

[From  "  The  Liverpool  Daily  Post,"  June  9,  1877.] 

MODERN  RESTORATION.2 

Venice,  15th  April,  1877. 
My  Dear  Sir  :  It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  know  the 
horror  and  contempt  with  which  I  regard  modern  restoration 
— but  it  is  so  great  that  it  simply  paralyzes  me  in  despair, — 
and  in  the  sense  of  such  difference  in  all  thought  and  feeling 
between  me  and  the  people  I  live  in  the  midst  of,  almost 
makes  it  useless  for  me  to  talk  to  them.  Of  course  all  resto- 
ration is  accursed  architect's  jobbery,  and  will  go  on  as  long 
as  they  can  get  their  filthy  bread  by  such  business.  But 
things  are  worse  here  than  in  England  :  you  have  little  there 

1  See  Arabian  Windows  in  the  Campo  Santa  Maria,  Mater  Domini, 
Plate  ii.  of  the  Examples  of  the  Architecture  of  Venice,  selected  and 
drawn  to  measurement  from  the  edifice,  1851.  And  see,  too,  Stones  of 
Venice,  vol.  ii. ,  chap.  vii. ,  Gothic  Palaces. 

2  This  letter  was  originally  received  by  "  a  Liverpool  gentleman, and 
sent  inclosed  in  a  long  letter  signed  "An  Antiquarian,"  to  the  Liverpool 
Daily  Post. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


155 


left  to  lose— here,  every  hour  is  ruining  buildings  of  inesti- 
mable beauty  and  historical  value — simply  to  keep  stone- 
lawyers  1  at  work.  I  am  obliged  to  hide  my  face  from  it  all, 
and  work  at  other  things,  or  I  should  die  of  mere  indignation 
and  disgust. 

Ever  truly  yours, 

J.  Buskin. 


[From  "The  Kidderminster  Times,"  July  28,  1877.] 

RIBBESFORD  CHURCH 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire, 
July  24,  1877: 
To  the  Editor  of  M  The  Kidderminster  Times y 

Sir  :  It  chanced  that,  on  the  morning  of  the  Sunday,  when 
the  appearances  of  danger  in  the  walls  of  Ribbesford  Church 
began  seriously  to  manifest  themselves  (according  to  the  re- 
port in  your  columns  of  the  21st  inst.),"  I  was  standing  out- 
side of  the  church,  listening  to  the  singing  of  the  last  hymn 
as  the  sound  came  through  the  open  door  (with  the  Archer 
Knight  sculptured  above  it),  and  showing  to  the  friend  who 
had  brought  me  to  the  lovely  place  the  extreme  interest  of 
the  old  perpendicular  traceries  in  the  freehand  working  of  the 
apertures. 

Permit  me  to  say,  with  reference  to  the  proposed  restoration 
of  the  church,  that  no  modern  architect,  no  mason  either,  can, 
or  would  if  they  could,  "  copy  "  those  traceries.  They  will 
assuredly  put  up  with  geometrical  models  in  their  place,  which 
will  be  no  more  like  the  old  traceries  than  a  Kensington  paper 
pattern  is  like  a  living  flower.  Whatever  else  is  added  or  re- 
moved, those  traceries  should  be  replaced  as  they  are,  and  left 

1  An  obvious  misprint  for  11  stone-layers. v 

2  Ribbesford  Church  was  finally  closed  after  the  morning  service  on 
Sunday,  July  15,  1877.  It  was  then  restored;  and  was  reopened  and 
reconsecrated  on  June  15,  1879.  The  Kidderminster  Times  of  the  21st 
inst.  contained  an  account  of  a  meeting  of  the  Ribbesford  parishioners 
to  consider  the  restoration  of  the  church.  Hence  the  allusions  in  this 
letter  to  l* copying"  the  traceries. 


156 


ABROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


in  reverence  until  they  moulder  away.  If  they  are  already 
too  much  deca}red  to  hold  the  glass  safely  (which  I  do  not  be« 
lieve),  any  framework  which  may  be  necessary  can  be  arranged 
to  hold  the  casements  within  them,  leaving  their  bars  entirely 
disengaged,  and  merely  kept  from  falling  by  iron  supports. 
But  if  these  are  to  be  "  copied,"  why  in  the  world  cannot  the 
congregation  pay  for  a  new  and  original  church,  to  display 
the  genius  and  wealth  of  the  nineteenth  century  somewhere 
else,  and  leave  the  dear  old  ruin  to  grow  gray  by  Severn  side 
in  peace  ? 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


CIRCULAR 1  RESPECTING  MEMORIAL  STUDIES  OF  ST. 
MARK'S,  VENICE,  NOW  IN  PROGRESS  UNDER  ME. 
BUSKIN'S  DIRECTION 

This  circular  will  be  given  to  visitors  to  the  Old  Water-color  Society's  Ex- 
hibition, Pall  Mall  East,  or  on  application  to  the  Fine  Art  Society,  148 
New  Bond  Street. 

My  friends  have  expressed  much  surprise  at  my  absence 
from  the  public  meetings  called  in  defence  of  St.  Mark's.  They 
cannot,  however,  be  too  clearly  certified  that  I  am  now  en- 
tirely unable  to  take  part  in  exciting  business,  or  even,  with- 
out grave  danger,  to  allow  my  mind  to  dwell  on  the  subjects 
which,  having  once  been  dearest  to  it,  are  now  the  sources  of 
acutest  pain.  The  illness  which  all  but  killed  me  twro  years 
ago  2  was  not  brought  on  by  overwork,  but  by  grief  at  the 
course  of  public  affairs  in  England,  and  of  affairs,  public  and 
private  alike,  in  Venice  ;  the  distress  of  many  an  old  and 
deeply  regarded  friend  there  among  the  humbler  classes  of 
the  city  being  as  necessary  a  consequence  of  the  modern  sys- 

1  This  circular,  which  was  distributed  as  above  noted  during  the  win- 
ter of  1879-80,  is  here  reprinted  by  Mr.  Ruskin's  permission,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  preceding  letters  upon  restoration  in  architecture.  See 
the  Notes  on  Prout  and  Hunt,  1879-80,  p.  71. 

2  In  February,  1878  ;  see  the  Turner  Notes  of  that  year,  and  Fors 
Clavigera,  New  Series — Letter  the  Fourth,  March,  1880. 


LETTERS  ON  ART 


157 


tern  of  centralization,  as  the  destruction  of  her  ancient  civil 
and  religious  buildings. 

How  far  forces  of  this  national  momentum  may  be  arrested 
by  protest,  or  mollified  by  petition,  I  know  not ;  what  in  either 
kind  I  have  felt  myself  able  to  do  has  been  done  two  years 
since,  in  conjunction  with  one  of  the  few  remaining  represen- 
tatives of  the  old  Venetian  noblesse. 1  All  that  now  remains  for 
me  is  to  use  what  time  may  be  yet  granted  for  such  record  as 
hand  and  heart  can  make  of  the  most  precious  building  in  Eu- 
rope, standing  yet  in  the  eyes  of  men  and  the  sunshine  of  heaven. 

The  drawing  of  the  first  two  arches  of  the  west  front,  now 
under  threat  of  restoration,  which,  as  an  honorary  member  of 
the  Old  Water-color  Society,  I  have  the  privilege  of  exhibit- 
ing in  its  rooms  this  year,  shows  with  sufficient  accuracy  the 
actual  state  of  the  building,  and  the  peculiar  qualities  of  its 
architecture.2  The  principles  of  that  architecture  are  analyzed 
at  length  in  the  second  volume  of  the  "  Stones  of  Venice,"  and 
the  whole  facade  described  there  with  the  best  care  I  could,  in 
hope  of  directing  the  attention  of  English  architects  to  the 
forms  of  Greek  sculpture  which  enrich  it.3  The  words  have 
been  occasionally  read  for  the  sound  of  them  ;  and  perhaps, 
when  the  building  is  destroyed,  may  be  some  day,  with  amaze- 
ment, perceived  to  have  been  true. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  drawing  just  referred  to,  every  touch 
of  it  made  from  the  building,  and  left  as  the  color  dried  in  the 
spring  mornings  of  1877,  will  make  clear  some  of  the  points 
chiefly  insisted  on  in  the  "  Stones  of  Venice,"  and  which  are 
of  yet  more  importance  now.4    Of  these,  the  first  and  main 

1  Count  Alvise  Piero  Zorzi,  the  author  of  an  admirable  and  authorita  - 
tive essay  on  the  restoration  of  St.  Mark's  (Venice,  1877). 

2  This  drawing  (No.  28  in  the  Exhibition)  was  of  a  small  portion  of 
the  west  front. 

3  Stones  of  Venice,  vol.  ii.,  chapter  4,  of  original  edition,  and  vol.  i., 
chapter  4,  of  the  smaller  edition  for  the  use  of  travellers. 

4  In  the  first  edition  of  this  circular  this  sentence  ran  as  follows  :  "  Iiv 
the  mean  time,  with  the  aid  of  the  drawing  just  referred  to,  every  touch 
of  it  from  the  building,  and  left,  as  the  color  dried  in  the  morning  light 
of  the  10th  May,  1877,  some  of  the  points  chiefly  insisted  on  in  the 
'Stones  of  Venice,'  are  of  importance  now," 


158 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACE. 


ones  are  the  exquisite  delicacy  of  the  work  and  perfection  of 
its  preservation  to  this  time.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  English 
visitor  never  realizes  thoroughly  what  it  is  that  he  looks  at 
in  the  St.  Mark's  porches :  its  glittering  confusion  in  a  style 
unexampled,  its  bright  colors,  its  mingled  marbles,  produce  on 
him  no  real  impression  of  age,  and  its  diminutive  size  scarcely 
any  of  grandeur.  It  looks  to  him  almost  like  a  stage  scene, 
got  up  solidly  for  some  sudden  testa.  No  mere  guide-book's 
passing  assertion  of  date — this  century  or  the  other— can  in 
the  least  make  him  even  conceive,  and  far  less  feel,  that  he  is 
actually  standing  before  the  very  shafts  and  stones  that  were 
set  on  their  foundations  here  while  Harold  the  Saxcn  stood  by 
the  grave  of  the  Confessor  under  the  fresh-raised  vaults  of  the 
first  Norman  Westminster  Abbey,  of  which  now  a  single  arch 
only  remains  standing.  He  cannot,  by  any  effort,  imagine  that 
those  exquisite  and  lace-like  sculptures  of  twined  acanthus — 
every  leaf-edge  as  sharp  and  fine  as  if  they  were  green  weeds 
fresh  springing  in  the  dew,  by  the  Pan-droseion 1 — were,  in- 
deed, cut  and  finished  to  their  perfect  grace  while  the  Norman 
axes  were  hewing  out  rough  zigzags  and  dentils  round  the 
aisles  of  Durham  and  Lindisfarne.  Or  nearer,  in  what  is  left 
of  our  own  Canterbury — it  is  but  an  hour's  journey  in  pleasant 
Kent — you  may  compare,  almost  as  if  you  looked  from  one  to 
the  other,  the  grim  grotesque  of  the  block  capitals  in  the  crypt 
with  the  foliage  of  these  flexile  ones,  and  with  their  marble 
doves — scarcely  distinguishable  from  the  living  birds  that 
nestle  between  them.  Or,  going  down  two  centuries  (for  the 
fillings  of  the  portico  arches  were  not  completed  till  after 
1204),  what  thirteenth-century  work  among  our  gray  lime- 
stone walls  can  be  thought  of  as  wrought  in  the  same  hour 
with  that  wreath  of  intertwined  white  marble,  relieved  by  gold, 
of  which  the  tenderest  and  sharpest  lines  of  the  pencil  cannot 
finely  enough  express  the  surfaces  and  undulations?  For  in- 
deed, without  and  within,  St.  Mark's  is  not,  in  the  real  nature  of 
it,  a  piece  of  architecture,  but  a  jewelled  casket  and  painted  rel- 
iquary, chief  of  the  treasures  of  what  were  once  the  world's 
treasuries  of  sacred  things,  the  kingdoms  of  Christendom. 


1  Printed  **  Pan-choreion  "  in  the  first  edition. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


159 


A  jewelled  casket,  every  jewel  of  which  was  itself  sacred. 
Not  a  slab  of  it,  nor  a  shaft,  but  has  been  brought  from  the 
churches  descendants  of  the  great  Seven  of  Asia,  or  from  the 
Christian  Greek  of  Corinth,  Crete,  and  Thrace,  or  the  Chris- 
tian-Israelite in  Palestine — the  central  archivolt  copied  from 
that  of  the  church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre,  and  the  opposing 
lions  or  phoenixes  of  its  sculptures  from  the  treasury  of 
Atreus  and  the  citadel  of  Tyre. 

Thus,  beyond  all  measure  of  value  as  a  treasury  of  art,  it  is 
also,  beyond  all  other  volumes,  venerable  as  a  codex  of  re- 
ligion. Just  as  the  white  foliage  and  birds  on  their  golden 
ground  are  descendants,  in  direct  line,  from  the  ivory  and 
gold  of  Phidias,  so  the  Greek  pictures  and  inscriptions, 
whether  in  mosaic  or  sculpture,  throughout  the  building, 
record  the  unbroken  unity  of  spiritual  influence  from  the 
Father  of  light — or  the  races  whose  own  poets  had  said  "  We 
also  are  his  offspring  " — down  to  the  day  when  all  their  gods, 
not  slain,  but  changed  into  new  creatures,  became  the  types 
to  them  of  the  mightier  Christian  spirits  ;  and  Perseus  became 
St.  George,  and  Mars  St.  Michael,  and  Athena  the  Madonna, 
and  Zeus  their  revealed  Father  in  Heaven. 

In  all  the  history  of  human  mind,  there  is  nothing  so  won- 
derful, nothing  so  eventful,  as  this  spiritual  change.  So  inex- 
tricably is  it  interwoven  with  the  most  divine,  the  most  dis- 
tant threads  of  human  thought  and  effort,  that  while  none  of 
the  thoughts  of  St.  Paul  or  the  visions  of  St.  John  can  be  un- 
derstood without  our  understanding  first  the  imagery  familiar 
to  the  Pagan  worship  of  the  Greeks  ;  on  the  other  hand,  no 
understanding  of  the  real  purport  of  Greek  religion  can  be 
securely  reached  without  watching  the  translation  of  its  myths 
into  the  message  of  Christianity. 

Both  by  the  natural  temper  of  my  mind,  and  by  the  labor 
of  forty  years  given  to  this  subject  in  its  practical  issues  on 
the  present  state  1  of  Christendom,  I  have  become,  in  some 


1  For  u  state,"  the  first  edition  reads  "  mind,"  and  for  ''have  become, 
in  some  measure,  able,"  it  has  "  have  qualified  myself."  So  again  tor 
"  am  at  this  moment  aided,"  it  reads  "  am  asked,  and  enabled  to  do  so." 


160 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACR 


measure,  able  both  to  show  and  to  interpret  these  most  pre- 
cious sculptures  ;  and  my  health  has  been  so  far  given  back  to 
me  that  if  I  am  at  this  moment  aided,  it  will,  so  far  as  I  can 
judge,  be  easily  possible  for  me  to  complete  the  work  so  long 
in  preparation.  There  will  yet,  I  doubt  not,  be  time  to  obtain 
perfect  record  of  all  that  is  to  be  destroyed.  I  have  entirely 
honest  and  able  draughtsmen  at  my  command ;  my  own  resig- 
nation 1  of  my  Oxford  Professorship  has  given  me  leisure ; 
and  all  that  I  want  from  the  antiquarian  sympathy  of  England 
is  so  much  instant  help  as  may  permit  me,  while  yet  in  avail- 
able vigor  of  body  and  mind,  to  get  the  records  made  under 
my  own  overseership,  and  registered  for  sufficient  and  true. 
The  casts  and  drawings  which  I  mean  to  have  made  will  be 
preserved  in  a  consistent  series  in  my  Museum  at  Sheffield, 
where  I  have  freehold  ground  enough  to  build  a  perfectly 
lighted  gallery  for  their  reception.  I  have  used  the  words  "  I 
want,"  as  if  praying  this  thing  for  myself.  It  is  not  so.  If 
only  some  other  person  could  and  would  undertake  all  this, 
Heaven  knows  how  gladly  I  would  leave  the  task  to  him.  But 
there  is  no  one  else  at  present  able  to  do  it :  if  not  now  by  me, 
it  can  never  be  done  more.  And  so  I  leave  it  to  the  reader's 
grace.  J.  Buskin. 

All  subscriptions  to  be  sent  to  Mr.  G.  Allen,  Sunnyside, 
Orpington,  Kent. 


POSTSCEIPT.2 

By  the  kindness  of  the  Society  of  Painters  in  Water-colors 
I  am  permitted  this  year,  in  view  of  the  crisis  of  the  fate  *  of 
the  facade  of  St.  Mark's,  to  place  in  the  Exhibition-room  of 
the  Society  ten  photographs,  illustrative  of  its  past  and  present 
state.  I  have  already  made  use  of  them,  both  in  my  lectures 
at  Oxford  and  in  the  parts  of  Fors  Glavigera  intended  for  Art- 
teaching  at  my  Sheffield  Museum ;  and  all  but  the  eighth  are 
obtainable  from  my  assistant,  Mr.  Ward  (2  Church  Terrace, 


1  Early  in  1879. 

2  Printed  in  the  second  edition  only. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


161 


Richmond),  who  is  my  general  agent  for  photographs,  either 
taken  under  my  direction  (as  here,  Nos.  4,  9,  and  10,)  or 
specially  chosen  by  me  for  purposes  of  Art  Education.  The 
series  of  views  here  shown  are  all  perfectly  taken,  with  great 
clearness,  from  the  most  important  points,  and  give,  consecu- 
tively, complete  evidence  respecting  the  facade. 
They  are  arranged  in  the  following  order : 

1.  The  Central  Porch.  V    .  _  . 


4.  The  Northern  Portico. 

5.  The  Southern  Portico.    Before  restoration. 

6.  The  "West  Front,  in  Perspective.    Seen  from  the  North. 

7.  The  West  Front,  in  Perspective.    Seen  from  the  South. 

8.  The  South  Side.    Before  restoration. 

9.  Detail  of  Central  Archivolt. 

10.  The  Cross  op  the  Merchants  of  Venice. 

This  last  photograph  is  not  of  St.  Mark's,  but  is  of  the  in* 
scription  which  I  discovered,  in  1877,  on  the  Church  of  St. 
James  of  the  Kialto.  It  is  of  the  9th  or  10th  century  (accord- 
ing to  the  best  antiquarians  of  Venice),  and  is  given  in  this 
series,  first,  to  confirm  the  closing  paragraph  in  my  notes  on 
the  Prout  drawings  in  Bond  Street ; 1  and  secondly,  to  show 

1  The  reference  is  to  the  closing  paragraph  of  the  Preface  to  the 
Notes,  which  runs  as  follows :  i '  Athena,  observe,  of  the  Agora,  or 
Market  Place.  And  St.  James  of  the  Deep  Stream  or  Market  River. 
The  Angels  of  Honest  Sale  and  Honest  Porterage  ;  such  honest  porterage 
being  the  grandeur  of  the  Grand  Canal,  and  of  all  other  canals,  rivers, 
sounds,  and  seas  that  ever  moved  in  wavering  morris  under  the  night. 
And  the  eternally  electric  light  of  the  embankment  of  that  Rialto  stream 
was  shed  upon  it  by  the  Cross— know  you  that  for  certain,  you  dwellers 
by  high-embanked  and  steamer-burdened  Thames.  And  learn  from 
your  poor  wandering  painter  this  lesson — for  the  sum  of  the  best  he  had 
to  give  you  (it  is  the  Alpha  of  the  Laws  of  true  human  life) — that  no 
city  is  prosperous  in  the  sight  of  Heaven,  unless  the  peasant  sells  in  its 
market — adding  this  lesson  of  Gentile  Bellini's  for  the  Omega,  that  no 
city  is  ever  righteous  in  the  Sight  of  Heaven  unless  the  Noble  walks  in 
iw  street."— Notes  on  Prout  and  Hunt,  p.  44, 


2.  The  Two  Northern  Porches. 

3.  The  Two  Southern  Porches. 


Arranged  in  one 
frame. 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OR  ACE. 


the  perfect  preservation  even  of  the  hair-strokes  in  letters 
carved  in  "the  Istrian  marble  used  at  Venice  a  thousand  years 
ago.    The  inscription  on  the  cross  is — 

"  Sit  crux  vera  salus  huic  tua  Christe  loco." 
(Be  Thy  Cross,  O  Christ,  the  true  safety  of  this  place.) 

And  on  the  band  beneath — 

44  Hoc  circa  templum  sit  jus  mercantibus  aequum, 
Pondera  nec  vergant  nec  sit  conventio  prava." 
(Around  this  temple  let  the  merchants'  law  be  just, 
Their  weights  true,  and  their  contracts  fair.) 

The  bearing  of  this  inscription  on  the  relations  of  Antonio  to 
Shylock  may  perhaps  not  be  perceived  by  a  public  which  now 
— consistently  and  naturally  enough,  but  ominously — con- 
siders Shylock  a  victim  to  the  support  of  the  principles  of 
legitimate  trade,  and  Antonio  a  "  speculator  and  sentimental- 
ist." From  the  series  of  photographs  of  St.  Mark's  itself,  I 
cannot  but  think  even  the  least  attentive  observer  must  re- 
ceive one  strong  impression — that  of  the  singular  preservation 
of  the  minutest  details  in  its  sculpture.  Observe,  this  is  a 
quite  separate  question  from  the  stability  of  the  fabric.  In 
our  northern  cathedrals  the  stone,  for  the  most  part,  moulders 
away  ;  and  the  restorer  usually  replaces  it  by  fresh  sculpture, 
on  the  faces  of  walls  of  which  the  mass  is  perfectly  secure. 
Here,  at  St.  Mark's,  on  the  contrary,  the  only  possible  pretence 
for  restoration  has  been,  and  is,  the  alleged  insecurity  of  the 
masses  of  inner  wall — the  external  sculptures  remaining  in 
faultless  perfection,  so  far  as  unaffected  by  direct  human 
violence.  Both  the  Greek  and  Istrian  marbles  used  at  Venice 
are  absolutely  defiant  of  hyposthral  influences,  and  the  edges 
of  their  delicatest  sculpture  remain  to  this  day  more  sharp 
than  if  they  had  been  cut  in  steel — for  then  they  would  have 
rusted  away.  It  is  especially,  for  example,  of  this  quality  that 
I  have  painted  the  ornament  of  the  St.  Jean  d'Acre  pillars,  No. 
107,  which  the  reader  may  at  once  compare  with  the  daguer- 
rotype  (No.  108)  beside  it,  which  are  exhibited,  with  the  Prout 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


103 


and  Hunt  drawings,  at  the  Fine  Art  Society's  rooms.1  These 
pillars  are  known  to  be  not  later  than  the  sixth  century,  yet 
wherever  external  violence  has  spared  their  decoration  it  is 
sharp  as  a  fresh-growing  thistle.  Throughout  the  whole  facade 
of  St.  Mark's,  the  capitals  have  only  here  and  there  by  casualty 
lost  so  much  as  a  volute  or  an  acanthus  leaf,  and  whatever  re- 
mains is  perfect  as  on  the  day  it  was  set  in  its  place,  mellowed 
and  subdued  only  in  color  by  time,  but  white  still,  clearly 
white  ;  and  gray,  still  softly  gray  ;  its  porphyry  purple  as  an 
Orleans  plum,  and  the  serpentine  as  green  as  a  greengage. 
Note  also,  that  in  this  throughout  perfect  decorated  surface 
there  is  not  a  loose  joint.  The  appearances  of  dislocation,  which 
here  and  there  look  like  yielding  of  masonry,  are  merely  care- 
lessness in  the  replacing  or  resetting  of  the  marble  armor  at 
the  different  times  when  the  front  has  been  retouched — in 
several  cases  quite  wilful  freaks  of  arrangement.  The  slope 
of  the  porphyry  shaft,  for  instance,  on  the  angle  at  the  left  of 
my  drawing,  looks  like  dilapidation.  Were  it  really  so,  the 
building  would  be  a  heap  of  ruins  in  twenty-four  hours.  These 
porches  sustain  no  wreight  above — their  pillars  carry  merely 
an  open  gallery  ;  and  the  inclination  of  the  red  marble  pilasters 
at  the  angle  is  not  yielding  at  all,  but  an  originally  capricious 
adjustment  of  the  marble  armor.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  in- 
vesting marbles  between  the  arch  and  pilaster  are  cut  to  the 
intended  inclination,  which  brings  the  latter  nearly  into  con- 
tact with  the  upper  archivolt ;  the  appearance  of  actual  con- 
tact being  caused  by  the  projection  of  the  dripstone.  There 
are,  indeed,  one  or  two  leaning  towers  in  Venice  whose  founda- 
tions have  partly  yielded  ;  but  if  anything  were  in  danger  on 
St.  Mark's  Place,  it  would  be  the  campanile — three  hundred 
feet  high — and  not  the  little  shafts  and  galleries  within  reach 
— too  easy  reach — of  the  gaslighter's  ladder.  And  the  only 
dilapidations  I  have  myself  seen  on  this  porch,  since  I  first 
drew  it  forty-six  years  ago,  have  been,  first,  those  caused  by 
the  insertion  of  the  lamps  themselves,  and  then  the  breaking 
away  of  the  marble  network  of  the  main  capital  by  the  habitual 


1  See  tlie  Notes  on  Prout  and  Hunt,  p,  78. 


164 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


clattering  of  the  said  gaslighter's  ladder  against  it.  A  piece 
of  it  which  I  saw  so  broken  off,  and  made  an  oration  over  to 
the  passers-by  in  no  less  broken  Italian,  is  in  my  mineral  cabi- 
net at  Brantwood. 

Before  leaving  this  subject  of  the  inclined  angle,  let  me  note 
— usefully,  though  not  to  my  present  purpose — that  the  en- 
tire beauty  of  St.  Mark's  campanile  depends  on  this  structure, 
there  definitely  seen  to  be  one  of  real  safety.  This  grace  and 
apparent  strength  of  the  whole  mass  would  be  destroyed  if 
the  sides  of  it  were  made  vertical.  In  Gothic  towers,  the 
same  effect  is  obtained  by  the  retiring  of  the  angle  buttresses, 
without  actual  inclination  of  any  but  the  coping  lines. 

In  the  Photograph  No.  5  the  slope  of  the  angles. in  the 
correspondent  portico,  as  it  stood  before  restoration,  is  easily 
visible  and  measurable,  the  difference  being,  even  on  so  small 
a  scale,  full  the  twentieth  of  an  inch  between  the  breadth  at 
base  and  top,  at  the  angles,  while  the  lines  bearing  the  inner 
arch  are  perfectly  vertical. 

There  was,  indeed,  as  will  be  seen  at  a  glance,  some  dis- 
placement of  the  pillars  dividing  the  great  window  above, 
immediately  to  the  right  of  the  portico.  But  these  pillars 
were  exactly  the  part  of  the  south  front  which  carried  no 
weight  The  arch  above  them  is  burdened  only  by  its  own 
fringes  of  sculpture  :  and  the  pillars  carried  only  the  bit  of 
decorated  panelling,  which  is  now  bent — not  outwards,  as  it 
would  have  been  by  pressure,  but  inwards.  The  arch  has  not 
subsided  ;  it  was  always  of  the  same  height  as  the  one  to  the 
right  of  it  (the  Byzantine  builders  throwing  their  arches  al- 
ways in  whatever  lines  they  chose)  ;  nor  is  there  a  single 
crack  or  displacement  in  the  sculpture  of  the  investing  fringe. 

In  No.  3  (to  the  right  hand  in  the  frame)  there  is  dilapida- 
tion and  danger  enough  certainly  ;  but  that  is  wholly  caused 
by  the  savage  and  brutal  carlessness  with  which  the  restored 
parts  are  joined  to  the  old.  The  photograph  bears  deadly 
and  perpetual  witness  against  the  system  of  "  making  work," 
too  well  known  now  among  English  as  well  as  Italian  opera- 
tives ;  but  it  bears  witness,  as  deadly,  against  the  alleged 
accuracy  of  the  restoration  itself.    The  ancient  dentils  are 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


165 


bold,  broad,  and  cut  with  the  free  hand,  as  all  good  Greek 
work  is ;  the  new  ones,  little  more  than  half  their  size,  are 
cut  with  the  servile  and  horrible  rigidity  of  the  modern 
mechanic. 

This  quality  is  what  M.  Meduna,  in  the  passage  quoted 
from  his  defence  of  himself  1  in  the  Standard,  has  at  once  the 
dulness  and  the  audacity  actually  to  boast  of  as  "plus  exacte  "  / 

Imagine  a  Kensington  student  set  to  copy  a  picture  by 
Velasquez,  and  substituting  a  Nottingham  lace  pattern,  traced 
with  absolute  exactness,  for  the  painter's  sparkle  and  flow  and 
flame,  and  boasting  of  his  improvements  as  "  plus  exacte  "  ! 
That  is  precisely  what  the  Italian  restorer  does  for  his  origi- 
nal ;  but,  alas !  he  has  the  inestimable  privilege  also  of 
destroying  the  original ;  as  he  works,  and  putting  his  stu- 
dent's caricature  in  its  place  !  Nor  are  any  words  bitter 
or  contemptuous  enough  to  describe  the  bestial  stupidities 
which  have  thus  already  replaced  the  floor  of  the  church,  in 
my  early  days  the  loveliest  in  Italy,  and  the  most  sacred. 

In  the  Photograph  No.  7  there  is,  and  there  only,  one  piece 
of  real  dilapidation — the  nodding  pinnacle  propped  on  the 
right.  Those  pinnacles  stand  over  the  roof  gutters,  and  their 
bracket  supports  are,  of  course,  liable  to  displacement,  if  the 
gutters  get  choked  by  frost  or  otherwise  neglected.  The  pin- 
nacle is  not  ten  feet  high,  and  can  be  replaced  and  secured  as 
easily  as  the  cowl  on  a  chimney-pot.  The  timbers  underneath 
were  left  there  merely  to  give  the  wished-for  appearance  of 
repairs  going  on.  They  defaced  the  church  front  through  the 
whole  winter  of  1876.  I  copied  the  bills  stuck  on  them  one 
Sunday,  and  they  are  printed  in  the  78th  number  of  Fors  Cla- 
vigera,  the  first  being  the  announcement  of  the  Keunited 
agencies  for  information  on  all  matters  of  commercial  enter- 
prise and  speculation,  and  the  last  the  announcement  of  the  loss 
of  a  cinnamon-colored  little  bitch,  with  rather  long  ears  (coW 
orecchie  piiitosto  lunghe).  I  waited  through  the  winter  to  see 
how  much  the  Venetians  really  cared  for  the  look  of  their 


1  See  the  Standard  (Dec.  3,  1879).  M.  Meduna  was  the  architect  who 
carried  out  the  4  '  restoration  "  of  the  south  facade  of  the  Cathedral. 


166 


ARR0W8  OF  THE  CIIACK 


church  ;  but  lodged  a  formal  remonstrance  in  March  with  one 
of  the  more  reasonable  civic  authorities,  who  presently  had 
them  removed.  The  remonstrance  ought,  of  course,  to  have 
come  from  the  clergy  ;  but  they  contented  themselves  with 
cutting  flower- wreathes  on  paper  to  hang  over  the  central  door 
at  Christmas-time.  For  the  rest,  the  pretence  of  rottenness 
in  the  walls  is  really  too  gross  to  be  answered.  There  are 
brick  buildings  in  Italy  by  tens  of  thousands,  Roman,  Lom- 
bardic,  Gothic,  on  all  scales  and  in  all  exposures.  Which  of 
them  has  rotted  or  fallen,  but  by  violence  ?  Shall  the  tower 
of  Garisenda  stand,  and  the  Campanile  of  Verona,  and  the 
tower  of  St.  Mark's,  and,  forsooth,  this  little  fifty  feet  of  un- 
weighted wall  be  rotten  and  dangerous? 

Much  more  I  could  say,  and  show  ;  but  the  certainty  of  the 
ruin  of  poor  Bedlamite  Venice  is  in  her  own  evil  will,  and  not 
to  be  averted  by  any  human  help  or  pleading.  Her  Sabba  delle 
streghe  has  truly  come  ;  and  in  her  own  words  (see  Fors,  letter 
77th)  ;  "Finalniente  la  Piazza  di  S.  Marcoa  sar  invasa  e  com- 
pletamente  illuminata  dalle  Fiamme  di  Belzebu.  Ferche  il 
Sabba  possa  riuscire  piu  completo,  si  raccomanda  a  tutti  gli 
spettatori  di  fischiare  durante  le  fiamme  come  anime  dannate." 

Meantime,  in  what  Saturday  pause  may  be  before  this 
Witches'  Sabbath,  if  I  have,  indeed  any  English  friends,  let 
them  now  help  me,  and  my  fellow- workers,  to  get  such  casts, 
and  colorings,  and  measurings,  as  may  be  of  use  in  time  to 
come.  I  am  not  used  to  the  begging  tone,  and  will  not  say 
more  than  that  what  is  given  me  will  go  in  mere  daily  bread 
to  the  workers,  and  that  next  year,  if  I  live,  there  shall  be 
some  exposition  of  what  we  have  got  done,  with  the  best  ac- 
count I  can  render  of  its  parts  and  pieces.  Fragmentary 
enough  they  must  be, — poor  fallen  plumes  of  the  winged 
lion's  wings, — yet  I  think  I  can  plume  a  true  shaft  or  two  with 
them  yet. 

Some  copies  of  the  second  edition  of  this  circular  had  printed 
at  the  top  of  its  last  and  otherwise  blank  page  the  words, 
"  Present  State  of  Subscription  Lists  : — ,"  a  printer's  error,  mis- 
taken by  some  readers  for  a  piece  of  dry  humor. 


LETTERS  ON  ART. 


167 


Subscriptions  were  collected  by  Mr.  G.  Allen,  as  above  in- 
timated, and  also  by  Mr.  F.  W.  Pullen,  secretary  to  the  Ras- 
kin Society  of  Manchester,  under  the  authority  of  the  follow- 
ing letter,  which  was  printed  and  distributed  by  him  :  "  No- 
vember 29,  1879. — Dear  Mr.  Pullen  :  I  am  very  glad  to  have 
your  most  satisfactory  letter,  and  as  gladly  give  you  authority 
to  receive  subscriptions  for  drawings  and  sculptures  of  St. 
Mark's.  Mr.  Bunney's  large  painting  of  the  whole  west  facade, 
ordered  by  me  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  and  in  steady  progress 
ever  since,  is  to  be  completed  this  spring.  It  was  a  £500 
commission  for  the  Guild,  but  I  don't  want  to  have  to  pay  it 
with  Guild  capital.  I  have  the  power  of  getting  casts,  also, 
in  places  where  nobody  else  can,  and  have  now  energy  enough 
to  give  directions,  but  can  no  more  pay  for  them  out  of  my  own 
pocket.  Ever  gratefully  yours,  J.  R.  As  a  formal  authority, 
this  had  better  have  my  full  signature — John  Ruskin."  In  a 
further  letter  to  Manchester  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Ruskin  wrote 
as  follows  :  "  It  is  wholly  impossible  for  me  at  present  to  take 
any  part  in  the  defence — at  last,  though  far  too  late — under- 
taken by  the  true  artists  and  scholars  of  England — of  the  most- 
precious  Christian  building  in  Europe  ;  .  .  .  nor  is  there  any 
occasion  that  I  should,  if  only  those  who  care  for  me  will  refer 
to  what  I  have  already  written,  and  will  accept  from  me  the 
full  ratification  of  all  that  was  said  by  the  various  speakers, 
all  without  exception  men  of  the  most  accurate  judgment  and 
true  feeling,  at  the  meeting  held  in  Oxford.  All  that  I  think 
necessary  for  you  to  lay,  directly  from  myself,  before  the  meet- 
ing you  are  about  to  hold,  is  the  explicit  statement  of  two 
facts  of  which  I  am  more  distinctly  cognizant  from  my  long- 
residences  in  Italy  at  different  periods,  and  in  Venice  during 
these  last  years  than  any  other  person  can  be — namely,  the 
Infidel— (malignantly  and  scornfully  Infidel  and  anti-religion- 
ist) aim  of  Italian  '  restoration ' — and  the  totality  of  the  de- 
struction it  involves,  of  whatever  it  touches."  So  again,  in  a 
second  and  despairing  letter,  he  wrote  :  "  You  cannot  be  too 
strongly  assured  of  the  total  destruction  involved,  in  the  res- 
toration of  St.  Mark's.  .  .  .  Then  the  plague  of  it  all  is,  What 
can  you  do  ?  Nothing  wTould  be  effectual,  but  the  appoint- 
ment of  a  Procurator  of  St.  Mark's,  with  an  enormous  salary, 
dependent  on  the  Church's  being  let  alone.  What  you  can 
do  by  a  meeting  at  Manchester,  I  have  no  notion.  The  only 
really  practical  thing  that  I  can  think  of  would  be  sending  me 
lots  of  money  to  spend  in  getting  all  the  drawings  I  can  of  the 
old  thing  before  it  goes.    I  don't  believe  we  can  save  it  by 


168 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


any  protests/'  See  the  Birmingham  Daily  Mail,  Nov.  27,  1879, 
The  reader  is  also  referred  to  "  Fors  Clavigera,"  New  Series, 
Letter  the  Fourth,  pp.  289-90. 

The  meeting  in  Oxford  alluded  to  above  was  held  in  the 
Sheldonian  Theatre  on  November  15,  1879.  Among  the  prin- 
cipal speakers  were  the  Dean  of  Christ  Church  (in  the  chair), 
Dr.  Acland,  the  Professor  of  Fine  Art  (Mr.  W.  B.  Kichmond), 
Mr.  Street,  Mr.  William  Morris,  and  Mr.  Burne  Jones. 


LETTERS  OJN*  SCIENCE. 


I— GEOLOGICAL. 

[From  "  The  Reader,11  November  12,  1864.] 

THE  CONFORMATION  OF  THE  ALPS, 

Denmark  Hill,  KMA  November,  1864. 

My  attention  has  but  now  been  directed  to  the  letters  in 
your  October  numbers  on  the  subject  of  the  forms  of  the 
Alps. 1  I  have,  perhaps,  some  claim  to  be  heard  on  this  ques- 
tion, having  spent,  out  of  a  somewhat  busy  life,  eleven  sum- 
mers and  two  winters  (the  winter  work  being  especially  useful, 
owing  to  the  definition  of  inaccessible  ledges  of  strata  by  new- 
fallen  snow)  in  researches  among  the  Alps,  directed  solely  to 
the  questions  of  their  external  form  and  its  mechanical 
causes  ;  while  I  left  to  other  geologists  the  more  disputable 
and  difficult  problems  of  relative  ages  of  beds. 

I  say  "  more  disputable "  because,  however  complex  the 
phases  of  mechanical  action,  its  general  nature  admits,  among 
the  Alps,  of  no  question.  The  forms  of  the  Alps  are  quite 
visibly  owing  to  the  action  (how  gradual  or  prolonged  cannot 
yet  be  determined)  of  elevatory,  contractile,  and  expansive 
forces,  followed  by  that  of  currents  of  water  at  various  tem- 
peratures, and  of  prolonged  disintegration — ice  having  had 
small  share  in  modifying  even  the  higher  ridges,  and  none  in 
causing  or  forming  the  valleys. 

1  The  Reader  of  October  15  contained  an  article  lt  On  the  Conforma- 
tion of  the  Alps,''  to  which  in  the  following  issue  of  the  journal  (October 
22)  Sir  Roderick  Murchison  replied  in  a  letter  dated  "  Torquay,  16th 
October,"  and  entitled  "On  the  Excavation  of  Lake-Basins  in  solid 
rocks  by  Glaciers,"  the  possibility  of  which  he  altogether  denied. 


170 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACK 


The  reason  of  the  extreme  difficulty  in  tracing  the  combi- 
nation of  these  several  operative  causes  in  any  given  instance, 
is  that  the  effective  and  destructive  drainage  by  no  means 
follows  the  leading  fissures,  but  tells  fearfully  on  the  softer 
rocks,  sweeping  away  inconceivable  volumes  of  these,  while 
fissures  or  faults  in  the  harder  rocks  of  quite  primal  structural 
importance  may  be  little  deepened  or  widened,  often  even 
unindicated,  by  subsequent  aqueous  action.  I  have,  however, 
described  at  some  length  the  commonest  structural  and  sculpt- 
ural phenomena  in  the  fourth  volume  of  "  Modern  Painters,'* 
and  I  gave  a  general  sketch  of  the  subject  last  year  in  my 
lecture  1  at  the  Royal  Institution  (fully  reported  in  the  Jour- 
nal de  Geneve  of  2d  September,  1883),  but  I  have  not  yet 
thrown  together  the  mass  of  material  in  my  possession,  be- 
cause our  leading  chemists  are  only  now  on  the  point  of  ob- 
taining some  data  for  the  analysis  of  the  most  important  of  all 
forces — that  of  the  consolidation  and  crystallization  of  the 
metamorphic  rocks,  causing  them  to  alter  their  bulk  and  ex- 
ercise irresistible  and  irregular  pressures  on  neighboring  or 
incumbent  beds. 

But,  even  on  existing  data,  the  idea  of  the  excavation  of 
valleys  by  ice  has  become  one  of  quite  ludicrous  untenablen ess. 
At  this  moment,  the  principal  glacier  in  Chamouni  pours  itself 
down  a  slope  of  twenty  degrees  or  more  over  a  rock  two  thou- 
sand feet  in  vertical  height ;  and  just  at  the  bottom  of  this 
ice-cataract,  where  a  water-cataract  of  equal  powTer  would  have 
excavated  an  almost  fathomless  pool,  the  ice  simply  accumu- 
lates a  heap  of  stones,  on  the  top  of  which  it  rests. 

The  lakes  of  any  hill  country  lie  in  what  are  the  isolated 
lowrest  (as  its  summits  are  the  isolated  highest)  portions  of  its 
broken  surface,  and  ice  no  more  engraves  the  one  than  it 
builds  the  other.    But  how  these  hollowrs  were  indeed  first 


1  "  On  the  Forms  of  the  Stratified  Alps  of  Savoy,"  delivered  on  June 
5,  1863.  The  subject  was  treated  under  three  heads.  1.  The  material 
of  the  Savoy  Alps.  2.  The  mode  of  their  formation.  3.  The  mode 
of  their  subsequent  sculpture.  (See  the  report  of  the  lecture  In  the 
Proceedings  of  the  Royal  Institution,  1863,  vol.,  iv.,  p.  142.  It  was  also 
printed  by  the  Institution  in  a  separate  form,  pi  4.) 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


171 


dug,  we  know  as  yet  no  more  than  how  the  Atlantic  was  dug ; 
and  the  hasty  expression  by  geologists  of  their  fancies  in  such 
matters  cannot  be  too  much  deprecated,  because  it  deprives 
their  science  of  the  respect  really  due  to  it  in  the  minds  of  a 
large  portion  of  the  public,  who  know,  and  can  know,  nothing 
of  its  established  principles,  while  they  can  easily  detect  its 
speculative  vanity.  There  is  plenty  of  work  for  us  all  to  do, 
without  losing  time  in  speculation  ;  and  when  we  have  got 
good  sections  across  the  entire  chain  of  the  Alps,  at  intervals 
of  twenty  miles  apart,  from  Nice  to  Innspruch,  and  exhaust' 
ive  maps  and  sections  of  the  lake-basins  of  Lucerne,  Annecy 
Como,  and  Garda,  we  shall  have  won  the  leisure,  and  may 
assume  the  right,  to  try  our  wits  on  the  formative  question. 

J.  Euskin.1 


[From  "  The  Reader,1'  November  26,  1864.] 

CONCERNING  GLACIERS. 

Denmark  Hill,  November  21. 

I  am  obliged  to  your  Scottish  correspondent  for  the  courtesy 
with  which  he  expresses  himself  towards  me  ;  and,  as  his 
letter  refers  to  several  points  still  (to  my  no  little  surprise)  in 
dispute  among  geologists,  you  will  perhaps  allow  me  to 
occupy,  in  reply,  somewhat  more  of  your  valuable  space  than 
I  had  intended  to  ask  for. 

I  sa}r  "to  my  no  little  surprise,"  because  the  great  princi- 
ples of  glacial  action  have  been  so  clearly  stated  by  their  dis- 
coverer, Forbes,  and  its  minor  phenomena  (though  in  an 
envious  temper,  which,  by  its  bitterness,  as  a  pillar  of  salt, 
has  become  the  sorrowful  monument  of  the  discovery  it 


1  In  reply  to  this  letter,  the  Reader  of  November  19,  1864,  published 
one  from  a  Scottish  correspondent,  signed  "  Tain  Caimbeul,"  the  writer 
of  which  declared  that,  whilst  he  looked  on  Mr.  Ruskin  "  as  a 
thoroughly  reliable  guide  in  all  that  relates  to  the  external  aspects 
of  the  Alps,"  he  could  not  "accept  his  leadership  in  questions  of 
political  economy  or  the  mechanics  of  glacier  motion/' 


172 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CI1A0E. 


denies) 1  so  carefully  described  by  Agassiz,  that  I  never 
thought  there  would  be  occasion  for  much  talk  on  the  sub- 
ject henceforward.  As  much  as  seems  now  necessary  to  be 
said  I  will  say  as  briefly  as  I  can. 

What  a  river  carries  fast  at  the  bottom  of  it,  a  glacier 
carries  slowly  at  the  top  of  it.  This  is  the  main  distinction 
between  their  agencies.  A  piece  of  rock  which,  falling  into  a 
strong  torrent,  would  be  perhaps  swept  down  half  a  mile  in 
twenty  minutes,  delivering  blows  on  the  rocks  at  the  bottom 
audible  like  distant  heavy  cannon,*  and  at  last  dashed  into 
fragments,  which  in  a  little  while  will  be  rounded  pebbles 
(having  done  enough  damage  to  everything  it  has  touched  in 
its  course) — this  same  rock,  I  say,  falling  on  a  glacier,  lies  on 
the  top  of  it,  and  is  thereon  carried  down,  if  at  fullest  speed,  at 
the  rate  of  three  yards  in  a  week,  doing  usually  damage  to 
nothing  at  all.  That  is  the  primal  difference  between  the 
work  of  water  and  ice  ;  these  further  differences,  however, 
follow  from  this  first  one. 

Though  a  glacier  never  rolls  its  moraine  into  pebbles,  as  a 
torrent  does  its  shingle,  it  torments  and  teases  the  said 
moraine  very  sufficiently,  and  without  intermission.  It  is 
always  moving  it  on,  and  melting  from  under  it,  and  one  stone 
is  always  toppling,  or  tilting,  or  sliding  over  another,  and  one 
company  of  stones  crashing  over  another,  with  staggering  shift 
of  heap  behind.  Now,  leaving  out  of  all  account  the  pulveru- 
lent effect  of  original  precipitation  to  glacier  level  from  two 
or  three  thousand  feet  above,  let  the  reader  imagine  a  mass  of 
sharp  granite  road-metal  and  paving  stones,  mixed  up  with 
boulders  of  any  size  he  can  think  of,  and  with  wreck  of  softer 
rocks  (micaceous  schists  in  quantities,  usually),  the  whole,  say, 
half  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide,  and  of  variable  thickness,  from 


*  Even  in  lower  Apennine,  "  Dat  sonitum  saxis,  et  torto 
vertice  torrens."  2 


1  See  below,  Forbes:  his  real  greatness,  pp.  182  seqq.,  and  the 
references  given  in  the  notes  there. 

2  Virgil,  ^Eneid,  vii.  567. 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


173 


mere  skin-deep  mock-moraine  on  mounds  of  unsuspected  ice 
— treacherous,  shadow-begotten — to  a  railroad  embankment, 
passenger-embankment,  one  eternal  collapse  of  unconditional 
ruin,  rotten  to  its  heart  with  frost  and  thaw  (in  regions  on  the 
edge  of  each),  and  withering  sun  and  waste  of  oozing  ice  ; 
fancy  all  this  heaved  and  shovelled,  slowly,  by  a  gang  of  a 
thousand  Irish  laborers,  twenty  miles  downhill.  You  will 
conjecture  there  may  be  some  dust  developed  on  the  way  ? — 
Borne  at  the  hill  bottom  ?  Yet  thus  you  will  have  but  a  dim 
idea  of  the  daily  and  final  results  of  the  movements  of  glacier 
moraines — beautiful  result  in  granite  and  slate  dust,  delivered 
by  the  torrent  at  last  in  banks  of  black  and  white  slime,  recov- 
ering itself,  far  away,  into  fruitful  fields,  and  level  floor  for 
human  life. 

Now  all  this  is  utterly  independent  of  any  action  whatso- 
ever by  the  ice  on  its  sustaining  rocks.  It  has  an  action  on 
these  indeed  ;  but  of  this  limited  nature  as  compared  with  that 
of  water.  A  stone  at  the  bottom  of  a  stream,  or  deep-sea  cur- 
rent, necessarily  and  always  presses  on  the  bottom  with  the 
weight  of  the  column  of  water  above  it — plus  the  excess  of  its 
own  weight  above  that  of  a  bulk  of  water  equal  to  its  own  ; 
but  a  stone  under  a  glacier  may  be  hitched  or  suspended  in 
the  ice  itself  for  long  spaces,  not  touching  bottom  at  all. 
When  dropped  at  last,  the  weight  of  ice  may  not  come  upon 
it  for  years,  for  that  weight  is  only  carried  on  certain  spaces 
of  the  rock  bed  ;  and  in  those  very  spaces  the  utmost  a  stone 
can  do  is  to  press  on  the  bottom  with  the  force  necessary  to 
drive  the  given  stone  into  ice  of  a  given  density  (usually  por- 
ous) :  and,  with  this  maximum  pressure,  to  move  at  the  maxi- 
mum rate  of  about  a  third  of  an  inch  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ! 
Iry  to  saw  a  piece  of  marble  through  (with  edge  of  iron,  not 
:>f  soppy  ice,  for  saw,  and  with  sharp  flint  sand  for  felspar 
slime),  and  move  your  saw  at  the  rate  of  an  inch  in  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  and  see  what  lively  and  progressive  work 
you  will  make  of  it ! 

I.  say  M  a  piece  of  marble  ; "  but  your  permanent  glacier- 
bottom  is  rarely  so  so& — for  a  glacier,  though  it  acts  slowly  by 
friction,  can  act  vigorously  by  dead-weight  on  a  soft  rock,  and 


174 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACR 


(with  fall  previously  provided  for  it)  can  clear  masses  of  that 
out  of  the  way,  to  some  purpose.  There  is  a  notable  instance 
of  this  in  the  rock  of  which  your  correspondent  speaks,  under 
the  Glacier  des  Bois.  His  idea,  that  the  glacier  is  deep  above 
and  thins  out  below,  is  a  curious  instance  of  the  misconception 
of  glacier  nature,  from  which  all  that  Forbes  has  done  cannot 
yet  quite  clear  the  public  mind,  nor  even  the  geological  mind. 
A  glacier  never,  in  a  large  sense,  thins  out  at  all  as  it  expires. 
It  flows  level  everywhere  for  its  own  part,  and  never  slopes 
but  down  a  slope,  as  a  rapid  in  water.  Pour  out  a  pot  of  the 
thickest  old  white  candied,  but  still  fluent,  honey  you  can  buy, 
over  a  heap  of  stones,  arranged  as  you  like,  to  imitate  rocks.1 
Whatever  the  honey  does  on  a  small  scale,  the  glacier  does  on 
a  large  ;  and  you  may  thus  study  the  glacier  phenomena  of 
current — though,  of  course,  not  those  of  structure  or  fissure 
— at  your  ease.  But  note  this  specially  :  When  the  honey  i3 
at  last  at  rest,  in  whatever  form  it  has  taken,  you  will  see  it 
terminates  in  tongues  with  low  rounded  edges.  The  possible 
height  of  these  edges,  in  any  fluid,  varies  as  its  viscosity ;  it  is 
some  quarter  of  an  inch  or  so  in  water  on  dry  ground  ;  the 
most  fluent  ice  will  stand  at  about  a  hundred  feet.  Next,  from 
this  outer  edge  of  the  stagnant  honey,  delicately  skim  or  thin 
off  a  little  at  the  top,  and  see  what  it  will  do.  It  will  not 
stand  in  an  inclined  plane,  but  fill  itself  up  again  to  a  level 
from  behind.  Glacier  ice  does  exactly  the  same  thing  ;  and 
this  filling  in  from  behind  is  done  so  subtly  and  delicately 
that,  every  winter,  the  whole  glacier  surface  rises  to  replace 
the  summer's  waste,  not  with  progressive  wave,  as  "  twice  a 
day  the  Severn  fills  ; "  but  with  silent,  level  insurrection,  as  of 
ocean-tide,  the  gray  sea-crystal  passes  by.  And  all  the  struct- 
ural phenomena  of  the  ice  are  modified  by  this  mysterious 
action. 

Your  correspondent  is  also  not  aware  that  the  Glacier  des 
Bois  gives  a  very  practical  and  outspoken  proof  of  its  shallow- 
ness opposite  the  Montanvert.  Very  often  its  torrent,  under 
wilful  touch  of  Lucina-sceptre,  leaps  to  the  light  at  the  top  of 


1  See  Deucalion,  vol.  i.  p.  93. 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


175 


the  rocks  instead  of  their  base.1  That  fiery  Arveron,  some- 
times, hearing  from  reconnoitring  streamlets  of  a  nearer  way 
clown  to  the  valley  than  the  rounded  ice-curve  under  the 
Chapeau,  fairly  takes  bit  in  teeth,  and  flings  itself  out  over 
the  brow  of  the  rocks,  and  down  a  ravine  in  them,  in  the 
wildest  cataract  of  white- thunder-clouds  (endless  in  thun- 
der, and  with  quiet  fragments  of  rainbow  for  lightning),  that 
I  have  ever  blinded  myself  in  the  skirts  of. 

These  bare  rocks,  over  which  the  main  river  sometimes 
falls  (and  outlying  streamlets  always)  are  of  firm-grained, 
massively  rounded  gneiss.  Above  them,  I  have  no  doubt, 
once  extended  the  upper  covering  of  fibrous  and  amianthoidal 
schist,  which  forms  the  greater  part  of  the  south-eastern  flank 
of  the  valley  of  Chamouni.  The  schistose  gneiss  is  continu- 
ous in  direction  of  bed,  with  the  harder  gneiss  below.  But 
the  outer  portion  is  soft,  the  inner  hard,  and  more  granitic. 
This  outer  portion  the  descending  glaciers  have  always 
stripped  right  off  down  to  the  hard  gneiss  below,  and  in 
places,  as  immediately  above  the  Montanvert  (and  elsewhere 
at  the  brows  of  the  valley),  the  beds  of  schistose  gneiss  are 
crushed  and  bent  outwards  in  a  mass  (I  believe)  by  the  weight 
of  the  old  glacier,  for  some  fifty  feet  within  their  surface. 
This  looks  like  work  ;  and  work  of  this  sort  when  it  had  to  be 
done,  the  glaciers  were  well  up  to,  bearing  down  such  soft 
masses  as  a  strong  man  bends  a  poplar  sapling  ;  but  by  steady 
push  far  more  than  by  friction.  You  may  bend  or  break  your 
sapling  with  bare  hands,  but  try  to  rub  its  bark  off  with  your 
bare  hands  ! 

When  once  the  ice,  ivith  strength  always  dependent  on  pre- 
existent  precipice,  has  cleared  such  obstacles  out  of  its  way, 
and  made  its  bed  to  its  liking,  there  is  an  end  to  its  manifest 
and  effectively  sculptural  power.  I  do  not  believe  the  Glacier 
des  Bois  has  done  more  against  some  of  the  granite  surfaces 


1  There  twice  a  day  the  Severn  fills  ; 
The  salt  sea-water  passes  by, 
And  hushes  half  the  babbling  Wye, 
And  makes  a  silence  in  the  hills. 

Tennyson.  M  In  Memoriam,"  xix. 


17G 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


beneath  it,  for  these  four  thousand  years,  than  the  drifts  of 
desert  sand  have  done  on  Sinai.  Be  that  as  it  may,  its  power 
of  excavation  on  a  level  is  proved,  as  I  showed  in  my  last  let- 
ter, to  be  zero.  Your  correspondent  thinks  the  glacier  power 
vanishes  towards  the  extremity  ;  but  as  long  as  the  ice  exists, 
it  has  the  same  progressive  energy,  and,  indeed,  sometimes, 
with  the  quite  terminal  nose  of  it,  will  plough  a  piece  of 
ground  scientifically  enough  ;  but  it  never  digs  a  hole  :  the 
stream  always  comes  from  under  it  full  speed  downhill.  Now, 
whatever  the  dimensions  of  a  glacier,  if  it  dug  a  big  hole,  like 
the  Lake  of  Geneva,  when  it  was  big,  it  would  dig  a  little  hole 
when  it  was  little — (not  that  this  is  always  safe  logic,  for  a 
little  stone  will  dig  in  a  glacier,  and  a  large  one  build  ;  but  it 
is  safe  within  general  limits) — wrhich  it  never  does,  nor  can, 
but  subsides  gladly  into  any  hole  prepared  for  it  in  a  quite 
placid  manner,  for  all  its  fierce  looks. 

I  find  it  difficult  to  stop,  for  your  correspondent,  little  as 
he  thinks  it,  has  put  me  on  my  own  ground.  I  was  forced  to 
write  upon  Art  by  an  accident  (the  public  abuse  of  Turner) 
when  I  wras  two-and- twenty  ;  but  I  had  written  a  "  Mineralogi- 
cal  Dictionary  "  as  far  as  C,  and  invented  a  shorthand  symbol- 
ism for  crystalline  forms,  before  I  was  fourteen :  and  have 
been  at  stony  work  ever  since,  as  I  could  find  time,  silently, 
not  caring  to  speak  much  till  the  chemists  had  given  me  more 
help.1  For,  indeed,  I  strive,  as  far  as  may  be,  not  to  speak 
of  anything  till  I  know  it  ;  and  in  that  matter  of  Political 
Economy  also  (though  forced  in  like  manner  to  write  of  that 
by  unendurable  circumfluent  fallacy),  I  know  my  ground  ; 
and  if  your  present  correspondent,  or  any  other,  will  meet 
me  fairly,  I  will  give  them  uttermost  satisfaction  upon  any 
point  they  doubt.  There  is  free  challenge  ;  and  in  the  knight 
of  Snowdoun's  vows  (looking  first  carefully  to  see  that  the 
rock  be  not  a  glacier  boulder), 

1  'This  rock  shall  fly 
From  its  firm  base,  as  soon  as  L " 

J.  EUSEIN.2 

1  See  Deucalion,  vol.  i.  p.  8  (Introduction). 

2  Following  this  letter  in  the  same  number  of  the  Reader  was  one 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


177 


ENGLISH  versus  ALPINE  GEOLOGY. 

|From  "  The  Reader,"  December  3,  1864.] 

Denmark  Hill,  29th  Nov. 
I  scarcely  know  what  reply  to  make,  or  whether  it  is  neces- 
sary to  reply  at  all,  to  the  letter  of  Mr.  Jukes  in  your  last 
number.  There  is  no  antagonism  between  his  views  and 
mine,  though  he  seems  heartily  to  desire  that  there  should  be, 
and  with  no  conceivable  motive  but  to  obtain  some  appear- 
ance of  it  suppresses  the  latter  half  of  the  sentence  he  quotes 
from  my  letter.1  It  is  true  that  he  wTrites  in  willing  ignorance 
of  the  Alps,  and  I  in  unwilling  ignorance  of  the  Wicklow  hills  ; 
but  the  only  consequent  discrepancy  of  thought  or  of  impres- 
sion between  us  is,  that  Mr.  Jukes,  examining  (by  his  own  ac- 
count) very  old  hills,  which  have  been  all  but  washed  away  to 
nothing,  naturally,  and  rightly,  attributes  their  present  form, 
or  want  of  form,  to  their  prolonged  ablutions,  while  I,  examin- 
ing new  and  lofty  hills,  of  which,  though  much  has  been  car- 
ried away,  much  is  still  left,  as  naturally  and  rightly  ascribe  a 
great  part  of  their  aspect  to  the  modes  of  their  elevation. 
The  Alp-bred  geologist  has,  however,  this  advantage,  that 
(especially  if  he  happen  at  spare  times  to  have  been  interested 
in  manual  arts)  he  can  hardly  overlook  the  effects  of  denuda- 
tion on  a  mountain-chain  which  sustains  Venice  on  the  delta 
of  one  of  its  torrents,  and  Antwerp  on  that  of  another  ;  but 
the  English  geologist,  however  practised  in  the  detection  and 
measurement  of  faults  filled  in  by  cubes  of  fluor,  may  be  par- 
doned for  dimly  appreciating  the  structure  of  a  district  in 

from  the  well-known  geologist  Mr.  Joseph  Beete  Jukes,  F.R.S.,  who, 
writing  from  44  Selly  Oak,  Birmingham,  Nov.  22, "  described  as  uthe 
originator  of  the  discussion."  He  therefore  was  no  doubt  the  author  of 
the  article  in  the  Reader  alluded  to  above  (p.  176,  note).  Mr.  Jukes 
died  in  1869. 

1  The  following  is  the  sentence  from  Mr.  Jukes'  letter  alluded  to : 
4 4  Therefore  when  Mr.  Ruskin  says  that  'the  forms  of  the  Alps  are  quite 
visibly  owing  to  the  action  of  elevatory,  contractile,  and  expansive 
forces,'  I  would  entreat  him  to  listen  to  those  who  have  had  their  vision 
corrected  by  the  laborious  use  of  chain  and  theodolite  and  protractor 
for  many  toilsome  years  over  similar  forms." 


178 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


which  a  people  strong  enough  to  lay  the  foundation  of  the 
liberties  of  Europe  in  a  single  battle,1  was  educated  in  a 
fissure  of  the  Lower  Chalk. 

I  think,  however,  that,  if  Mr.  Jukes  can  succeed  in  allaying 
his  feverish  thirst  for  battle,  he  will  wish  to  withdraw  the 
fourth  paragraph  of  his  letter,2  and,  as  a  general  formula, 
even  the  scheme  which  it  introduces.  That  scheme,  suffi- 
ciently accurate  as  an  expression  of  one  cycle  of  geological 
action,  contains  little  more  than  was  known  to  all  leading 
geologists  five-and-twenty  years  ago,  when  I  was  working  hard 
under  Dr.  Buckland  at  Oxford  ; 3  and  it  is  so  curiously  un- 
worthy of  the  present  state  of  geological  science,  that  I  believe 
its  author,  in  his  calmer  moments,  will  not  wish  to  attach  his 
name  to  an  attempt  at  generalization  at  once  so  narrow,  and  so 
audacious.  My  experience  of  mountain-form  is  probably  as 
much  more  extended  than  his,  as  my  disposition  to  generalize 
respecting  it  is  less  ; 4  and,  although  indeed  the  apparent 
limitation  of  the  statement  which  he  half  quotes  (probably 
owing  to  his  general  love  of  denudation)  from  my  last  letter, 
to  the  chain  of  the  Alps,  was  intended  only  to  attach  to  the 
words  "quite  visibly,"  yet,  had  I  myself  expanded  that  state- 

1  The  battle  of  Sempach  (?).  See  the  letters  on  The  Italian  Question, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  second  volume. 

2  To  the  effect  that  "the  form  of  the  ground  is  the  result  wholly  of 
denudation."  For  the  "  scheme,"  consisting  of  ten  articles,  see  the  note 
§  below. 

3  Dr.  William  Buckland,  the  geologist,  and  at  one  time  Dean  of  West- 
minster. He  died  in  1856.  See  Fors  Clavigera,  1873,  Letter  xxxiv.  p. 
89. 

4  This  and  the  following  sentences  allude  to  parts  of  the  above  men- 
tioned scheme.  "The  whole  question, "  wrote  Mr.  Jukes,  "depends 
on  the  relative  dates  of  production  of  the  lithological  composition,  the 
penological  structure,  and  the  form  of  the  surface."  The  scheme  then 
attempts  to  sketch  "  the  order  of  the  processes  which  formed  these  three 
tilings,'1  in  ten  articles,  of  which  the  following  are  specially  referred  to 
by  Mr.  Ruskin  :  "1.  The  formation  of  a  great  series  of  stratified  rocks 
on  the  bed  of  a  sea.  ...  3.  The  possible  intrusion  of  great  masses 
of  granite  rock  "  in  more  or  less  fluent  state  ;  and  6,  7,  8,  9,  which  dealt 
with  alternate  elevation  and  depression,  of  which  there  might  be  "  even 
more  than  one  repetition." 


LETTERS  OJST  SCIENCE. 


179 


ment,  I  should  not  have  assumed  the  existence  of  a  sea,  to  re- 
lieve me  from  the  difficulty  of  accounting  for  the  existence  of 
a  lake  ;  I  should  not  have  assumed  that  all  mountain-forma- 
tions of  investiture  were  marine  ;  nor  claimed  the  possession 
of  a  great  series  of  stratified  rocks  without  inquiring  where 
they  were  to  come  from.  I  should  not  have  thought  "  even 
more  than  one  "  an  adequate  expression  for  the  possible  num- 
ber of  elevations  and  depressions  which  may  have  taken  place 
since  the  beginning  of  time  on  the  mountain-chains  of  the 
world  ;  nor  thought  myself  capable  of  compressing  into  Ten 
Articles,  or  even  into  Thirty-nine,  my  conceptions  of  the 
working  of  the  Power  which  led  forth  the  little  hills  like 
lambs,  while  it  rent  or  established  the  foundations  of  the 
earth  ;  and  set  their  birth-seal  on  the  forehead  of  each  in  the 
infinitudes  of  aspect  and  of  function  which  range  between  the 
violet-dyed  banks  of  Thames  and  Seine,  and  the  vexed  Fury- 
Tower  of  Cotopaxi. 

Not  but  that  large  generalizations  ure,  indeed,  possible  with 
respect  to  the  diluvial  phenomena,  among  which  my  antago- 
nist has  pursued  his — scarcely  amphibious  ?) — investigations. 
The  effects  of  denudation  and  deposition  are  unvarying  every- 
where, and  have  been  watched  with  terror  and  gratitude  in  all 
ages.  In  physical  mythology  they  gave  tusk  to  the  Grseae, 
claw  to  the  Gorgons,  bull's  frontlet  to  the  floods  of  Aufidus 
and  Po,  They  gave  weapons  to  the  wars  of  Titans  against 
Gods,  and  lifeless  seed  of  life  into  the  hand  of  Deucalion. 
Herodotus  "  rightly  spelled  "  of  them,  where  the  lotus  rose 
from  the  dust  of  Nile  and  leaned  upon  its  dew  ;  Plato  rightly 
dreamed  of  them  in  his  great  vision  of  the  disrobing  of  the 
Acropolis  to  its  naked  marble  ;  the  keen  eye  of  Horace,  half 
poet's,  half  farmer's  (albeit  unaided  by  theodolite),  recognized 
them  alike  where  the  risen  brooks  of  Vallombrosa,  amidst  the 
mountain-clamors,  tossed  their  champed  shingle  to  the  Etru- 
rian sea,  and  in  the  uncoveted  wealth  of  the  pastures, 

"  Quae  Liris  qnieta 
Mordet  aqua,  tactiturnus  amnis. "  1 

1  See  Herodotus,  ii.  92  ;  Plato,  Critias,  112  ;  and  Horace,  Od.  i.  31. 


180 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  CHACE. 


But  the  inner  structure  of  the  mountain-chains  is  as  varied  as 
their  substance  ;  and  to  this  day,  in  some  of  its  mightier  de- 
velopments, so  little  understood,  that  my  Neptunian  opponent 
himself,  in  his  address  delivered  at  Cambridge  in  1862,  speaks 
of  an  arrangement  of  strata  which  it  is  difficult  to  traverse  ten 
miles  of  Alpine  limestone  without  finding  an  example  of,  as 
beyond  the  limits  of  theoretical  imagination.1 

I  feel  tempted  to  say  more  ;  but  I  have  at  present  little 
time  even  for  useful,  and  none  for  wanton,  controversy. 
Whatever  information  Mr.  Jukes  can  afford  me  on  these  sub- 
jects (and  I  do  not  doubt  he  can  afford  me  much),  I  am  ready 
to  receive,  not  only  without  need  of  his  entreaty,  but  with 
sincere  thanks.  If  he  likes  to  try  his  powers  of  sight,  "  as 
corrected  by  the  laborious  use  of  the  protractor,"  against  mine, 
I  will  in  humility  abide  the  issue.  But  at  present  the  ques- 
tion before  the  house  is,  as  I  understand  it,  simply  whether 
glaciers  excavate  lake-basins  or  not.  That,  in  spite  of  measure- 
ment and  survey,  here  or  elsewhere,  seems  to  remain  a  ques- 
tion. May  we  answer  the  first,  if  answerable  ?  That  deter- 
mined, I  think  I  might  furnish  some  other  grounds  of  debate 
in  this  notable  cause  of  Peebles  against  Plainstanes,  provided 
that  Mr.  Jukes  will  not  in  future  think  his  seniority  gives  him 
the  right  to  answer  me  with  disparagement  instead  of  instruc- 
tion, and  will  bear  with  the  English  " student's"  weakness 
which  induces  me,  usually,  to  wish  rather  to  begin  by  shoot- 
ing my  elephant  than  end  by  describing  it  out  of  my  moral 
consciousness.2 

J.  Kuskin. 


1  The  address  was  delivered  by  Mr.  Jukes  as  President  of  the  Geolog- 
ical Section  of  the  British  Association  for  the  Advancement  of  Science, 
which  met  in  1862  at  Cambridge.  (See  the  Report  of  the  Association, 
vol.  xxxii.  p.  54.) 

*2  Mr.  Jukes'  letter  had  concluded  by  recommending  English  geologists 
to  pursue  their  studies  at  home,  on  the  ground  that  11  a  student,  com- 
mencing to  learn  comparative  anatomy,  does  not  think  it  necessary  to  go 
to  Africa  and  kill  an  elephant. "  In  the  following  number  of  the  Reader 
(Dec.  10)  Mr.  Jukes  wrote,  in  answer  to  the  present  letter,  that  he  had 
not  intended  to  imply  any  hostility  towards  Mr.  Ruskin,  with  whose 
next  letter  the  discussion  ended. 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


181 


[From  "The Reader,''  December  10,  1864.] 

cojsrcEBJsrusrG  hydrostatics. 

Norwich,  6th  December. 
Your  pages  are  not,  I  presume,  intended  for  the  dissemina- 
tion of  the  elements  of  physical  science.  Your  correspondent 
"M.  A.  C."  has  a  good  wit,  and,  by  purchasing  any  common 
treatise  on  the  barometer,  may  discover  the  propriety  of  exer- 
cising it  on  subjects  with  which  he  is  acquainted.  "  G.  M." 
deserves  more  attention,  the  confusion  in  his  mind  between 
increase  of  pressure  and  increase  of  density  being  a  very  com- 
mon one. 1  It  may  be  enough  to  note  for  him,  and  for  those 
of  your  readers  whom  his  letter  may  have  embarrassed,  that 
in  any  incompressible  liquid  a  body  of  greater  specific  gravity 
than  the  liquid  will  sink  to  any  depth,  because  the  column 
which  it  forms,  together  with  the  vertical  column  of  the  liquid 
above  it,  always  exceeds  in  total  weight  the  column  formed  by 
the  equal  bulk  of  the  liquid  at  its  side,  and  the  vertical  column 
of  liquid  above  that.  Deep-sea  soundings  would  be  otherwise 
impossible.  "  G.  M."  may  find  the  explanation  of  the  other 
phenomena  to  which  he  alludes  in  any  elementary  work  on 
hydrostatics,  and  will  discover  on  a  little  reflection  that  the 
statement  in  my  last  letter  2  is  simply  true.  Expanded,  it  is 
merely  that,  when  we  throw  a  stone  into  water,  we  substitute 
pressure  of  stone-surface  for  pressure  of  water-surface  through- 

1  "M.  A.  C.,J  wrote  "Concerning  Stones,"  and  dealt — or  attempted 
to  deal — with  ''atmospheric  pressure"  in  addition  to  the  pressure  of 
water  alluded  to  in  Mr.  Ruskin's  letter  of  November  26.  The  letter 
signed  "  G.  M."  was  entitled  "  Mr.  Ruskin  on  Glaciers  see  next  note. 
Both  letters  appeared  in  the  Reader  of  December  3,  1864. 

2  Not  in  the  "  last  letter,"  but  in  the  last  but  one—see  ante,  p.  17o, 
44  A  stone  at  the  bottom  of  a  stream,"  etc.  The  parts  of  "  G.  M.'s  "  letter 
specially  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Ruskin  are  as  follows  : 

"  It  is  very  evident  that  the  nearer  the  source  of  the  glacier,  the  steeper 
will  be  the  angle  at  which  it  advances  from  above,  and  the  greater  its 
power  of  excavation.  .  .  .  Mr.  Ruskin  gets  rid  of  the  rocks  and  debris 
on  the  under  side  of  the  glacier  by  supposing  that  they  are  pressed  be- 
yond the  range  of  action  in  the  solid  body  of  the  ice ;  but  there  must  be 
alimit  to  this,  however  soft  the  matrix." 


182 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACK 


out  the  area  of  horizontal  contact  of  the  stone  with  the 
ground,  and  add  the  excess  of  the  stone's  weight  over  that  of 
an  equal  bulk  of  water. 

It  is,  however,  very  difficult  for  me  to  understand  how  any 
person  so  totally  ignoraDt  of  every  circumstance  of  glacial 
locality  and  action,  as  "  G.  M."  shows  himself  to  be  in  the 
paragraph  beginning  "It  is  very  evident,"  could  have  had  the 
courage  to  write  a  syllable  on  the  subject.  I  will  waste  no 
time  in  reply,  but  will  only  assure  him  (with  reference  to  his 
assertion  that  I  "  get  rid  of  the  rocks,"  etc.),  that  I  never  de- 
sire to  get  rid  of  anything  but  error,  and  that  I  should  be  the 
last  person  to  desire  to  get  rid  of  the  glacial  agency  by  friction, 
as  I  was,  I  believe,  the  first  to  reduce  to  a  diagram  the  prob- 
able stages  of  its  operation  on  the  bases  of  the  higher  Alpine 
aiguilles. 1 

Permit  me  to  add,  in  conclusion,  that  in  future  I  can  take 
no  notice  of  any  letters  to  which  the  writers  do  not  think  tit 
to  attach  their  names.  There  can  be  no  need  of  initials  in 
scientific  discussion,  except  to  shield  incompetence  or  license 
discourtesy.  J.  Euskin. 


[From  "  Rendu's  Theory  of  the  Glaciers  of  Savoy,"  Macmillan,  1874.] 

JAMES  DAVID  FORBES:  HIS  REAL  GREATNESS.** 

The  incidental  passage  in  "  Fors,"  hastily  written,  on  a  con- 
temptible issue,  does  not  in  the  least  indicate  my  sense  of  the 

1  See  Modern  Painters,  Part  v.,  chap.  13,  On  the  Sculpture  Moun- 
tains, vol.  iv\  p.  175. 

-  In  connection  with  the  question  of  glacier-motion,  Mr.  Ruskin's  esti- 
mate of  Professor  Forbes  and  his  work  is  here  reprinted  from  itendu's 
Glaciers  of  Savoy  (Macmillan,  1874),  pp.  205-207.  For  a  passage  on  the 
same  subject  which  was  reprinted  in  the  Glaciers  of  Savoy,  in  addi- 
tion to  the  new  matter  republished  here,  and  for  a  statement  of  the 
course  of  glacier-science,  and  the  relation  of  Forbes  to  Agassiz,  the  reader 
is  referred  to  Fors  Clavigera,  1873,  Letter  xxxiv.  pp.  90-94  The  "  inci- 
dental passage"  consists  of  a  review  of  Professor  Tyndall  s  "  Forms  of 
Water"  (London,  1872),  and  the  "contemptible  issue"  was  that  of  his 
position  and  Forbes'  amongst  geological  discoverers. 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


183 


real  position  of  James  Forbes  among  the  men  of  Lis  day.  I 
have  asked  his  son's  1  permission  to  add  a  few  words  expressive 
of  my  deeper  feelings. 

For  indeed  it  seems  to  me  that  all  these  questions  as  to 
priority  of  ideas  or  observations  are  beneath  debate  among 
noble  persons.  What  a  man  like  Forbes  first  noticed,  or  de- 
monstrated, is  of  no  real  moment  to  his  memory.  What  he 
was,  and  how  he  taught,  is  of  consummate  moment.  The 
actuality  of  his  personal  power,  the  sincerity  and  wisdom  of 
his  constant  teaching,  need  no  applause  from  the  love  they 
justly  gained,  and  can  sustain  no  diminution  from  hostility  ;  for 
their  proper  honor  is  in  their  usefulness.  To  a  man  of  no  essen- 
tial power,  the  accident  of  a  discovery  is  apotheosis  ;  to  kiih, 
the  former  knowledge  of  all  the  sages  of  earth  is  as  though  it 
were  not ;  he  calls  the  ants  of  his  own  generation  round  him, 
to  observe  how  he  flourishes  in  his  tiny  forceps  the  grain  of 
sand  he  has  imposed  upon  Pelion.  But  from  all  such  vindica- 
tion of  the  claims  of  Forbes  to  mere  discovery,  I,  his  friend, 
would,  for  my  own  part,  proudly  abstain.  I  do  not  in  the 
slightest  degree  care  whether  he  was  the  first  to  see  this,  or 
the  first  to  say  that,  or  how  many  common  persons  had  seen 
or  said  as  much  before.  What  I  rejoice  in  knowing  of  him  is 
that  he  had  clear  eyes  and  open  heart  for  all  things  and  deeds 
appertaining  to  his  life  ;  that  whatever  he  discerned,  was  dis- 
cerned impartially  ;  what  he  said,  was  said  securely  ;  and  that 
in  all  functions  of  thought,  experiment,  or  communication,  he 
was  sure  to  be  eventually  right,  and  serviceable  to  mankind, 
whether  out  of  the  treasury  of  eternal  knowledge  he  brought 
forth  things  new  or  old. 

This  is  the  essential  difference  between  the  work  of  men  of 
true  genius  and  the  agitation  of  temporary  and  popular  power. 
The  first  root  of  their  usefulness  is  in  subjection  of  their  van- 
ity to  their  purpose.  It  is  not  in  calibre  or  range  of  intellect 
that  men  vitally  differ  ;  every  phase  of  mental  character  has 
honorable  office  ;  but  the  vital  difference  between  the  strong 


1  George  Forbes,  B.A.,  Professor  of  Natural  Philosophy  in  the  Ander- 
sonian  University,  Glasgow,  and  editor  of  The  Glaciers  of  Savoy. 


184 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


and  the  weak — or  let  nie  say  rather,  between  the  availing  and 
valueless  intelligence — is  in  the  relation  of  the  love  of  self  to 
the  love  of  the  subject  or  occupation.  Many  an  Alpine  trav- 
eller, many  a  busy  man  of  science,  volubly  represent  to  us 
their  pleasure  in  the  Alps  ;  but  I  scarcely  recognize  one  who 
would  not  willingly  see  them  all  ground  down  into  gravel,  on 
condition  of  his  being  the  first  to  exhibit  a  pebble  of  it  at  the 
Royal  Institution.  Whereas  it  may  be  felt  in  any  single  page 
of  Forbes'  writing,  or  De  Saussure's,  that  they  love  crag  and 
glacier  for  their  own  sake's  sake  ;  that  they  question  their 
secrets  in  reverent  and  solemn  thirst :  not  at  all  that  they  may 
communicate  them  at  breakfast  to  the  readers  of  the  Daily 
Mews — and  that,  although  there  were  no  news,  no  institutions, 
no  leading  articles,  no  medals,  no  money,  and  no  mob,  in  the 
world,  these  men  would  still  labor,  and  be  glad,  though  all 
their  knowledge  was  to  rest  with  them  at  last  in  the  silence 
of  the  snows,  or  only  to  be  taught  to  peasant  children  sitting 
in  the  shade  of  pines. 

And  whatever  Forbes  did  or  spoke  during  his  noble  life 
was  in  this  manner  patiently  and  permanently  true.  The  pas- 
sage of  his  lectures  in  which  he  shows  the  folly  of  Macaulay's 
assertion  that  "The  giants  of  one  generation  are  the  pigmies 
of  the  next,"  1  beautiful  in  itself,  is  more  interesting  yet  in 
the  indication  it  gives  of  the  general  grasp  and  melodious  tone 
of  Forbes'  reverent  intellect,  as  opposed  to  the  discordant  inso- 


1  This  saying  of  Macaulay's  occurred  in  an  address  which,  as  M.P.  for 
that  cit}',  he  delivered  at  the  opening  of  the  Edinburgh  Philosophical 
Institution,  in  1846  (Nov.  4).  Forbes'  criticism  of  it  and  of  the  whole 
address  may  be  found  in  a  lecture  introductory  to  a  course  on  Natural 
Philosophy,  delivered  before  the  University  of  Edinburgh  (Nov.  1  and 
2,  1848),  and  entitled  "  The  Danger  of  Superficial  knowledge ;  "  under 
which  title  it  was  afterwards  printed,  together  with  a  newspaper  report 
of  Macaulay's  address  (London  and  Edinburgh,  1849).  In  the  edition 
of  Macaulay's  speeches  revised  by  himself,  the  sentence  in  question  is 
omitted,  though  others  of  a  like  nature,  such  as  "The  profundity  of  one 
age  is  the  shallowness  of  the  next,"  are  retained,  and  the  whole  argu- 
ment of  the  address  remains  the  same.  (See  Macaulay's  Works,  8  vol. 
ed.,  Longmans,  1866.  Vol.  viii.  p.  380,  The  Literature  of  Great  Britain.) 
For  a  second  mention  of  this  saying  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  see  also  u  Remarks 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE, 


185 


lence  of  modernism.  His  mind  grew  and  took  color  like  an 
Alpine  flower,  rooted  on  rock,  and  perennial  in  flower  ;  while 
Macaulay's  swelled  like  a  puff-ball  in  an  unwholesome  pasture, 
and  projected  itself  far  round  in  deleterious  dust. 

I  had  intended  saying  a  few  words  more  touching  the  dif- 
ference in  temper,  and  probity  of  heart,  between  Forbes  and 
Agassiz,  as  manifested  in  the  documents  now  1  laid  before  the 
public.  And  as  far  as  my  own  feelings  are  concerned,  the 
death  of  Agassiz2  would  not  have  caused  my  withholding  a 
word.  For  in  all  utterance  of  blame  or  praise,  I  have  striven 
always  to  be  kind  to  the  living — just  to  the  dead.  But  in 
deference  to  the  wish  of  the  son  of  Forbes,  I  keep  silence :  I 
willingly  leave  sentence  to  be  pronounced  by  time,  above  their 
two  graves.  John  Ruskin. 


addressed  to  the  Mansfield  Art  Night  Class,"  1873,  now  reprinted  in  A 
Joy  for  Ever  (Buskin's  Works,  vol.  ix.  p.  201). 

The  following  are  parts  of  the  passage  (extending  over  some  pages)  in 
Forbes'  lecture  alluded  to  by  Mr.  Buskin : 

*;  How  false,  then,  as  well  as  arrogant,  is  the  self-gratulation  of  those, 
who,  forgetful  of  the  struggles  and  painful  efforts  by  which  knowledge 
is  increased,  would  place  themselves,  by  virtue  of  their  borrowed  ac- 
quirements, in  the  same  elevated  position  with  their  great  teachers — 
nay,  who,  perceiving  the  dimness  of  light  and  the  feebleness  of  grasp, 
with  which,  often  at  first,  great  truths  have  been  perceived  and  held, 
find  food  for  pride  in  the  superior  clearness  of  their  vision  and  tenacity 
of  their  apprehension  !' '  Then,  after  quoting  some  words  from  Dr. 
Whe well's  Philosophy  of  the  Inductive  Sciences,  vol.  ii.  p.  525,  and 
after  some  further  remarks,  the  lecturer  thus  continued  :  "The  activity 
of  mind,  the  earnestness,  the  struggle  after  truth,  the  hopeless  perplexity 
breaking  up  gradually  into  the  fulness  of  perfect  apprehension,— the 
dread  of  error,  the  victory  over  the  imagination  in  discarding  hypoth- 
eses, the  sense  of  weakness  and  humility  arising  from  repeated  disap- 
pointments, the  yearnings  after  a  fuller  revelation ,  and  the  sure  conviction 
which  attends  the  final  advent  of  knowledge  sought  amidst  difficulties 
and  disappointments,— these  are  the  lessons  and  the  rewards  of  the  dis- 
coverers who  first  put  truth  within  our  reach,  but  of  which  we  who 
receive  it  at  second-hand  can  form  but  a  faint  and  lifeless  conception." 
(See  pp.  39-41  of  The  Danger  of  Superficial  Knowledge.) 

1  In  the  edition  of  Bendu's  Glaciers  of  Savoy  already  alluded  to. 

2  Forbes  died  Dec.  31,  1868;  Agassiz  in  1873;  and  De  Saussure  in 
1845. 


186 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIAOE. 


The  following  letters/  one  from  Forbes  to  myself,  written 
ten  years  ago,  and  the  other  from  one  of  his  pupils,  received 
by  me  a  few  weeks  since,  must,  however,  take  their  due  place 
among  the  other  evidence  on  which  such  judgment  is  to  be 
given.  J.  R 


II— MISCELLANEOUS. 

[From  "The  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine"  (edited  by  E.  V.  Rippingille),  February, 
1844,  pp.  314-319.] 

REFLECTIONS  IN  WATERS 

To  the  Editor  of  44  The  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine" 

Sir  :  The  phenomena  of  light  and  shade,  rendered  to  the  eye 
by  the  surface  or  substance  of  water,  are  so  intricate  and  so 
multitudinous,  that  had  I  wished  fully  to  investigate,  or  even 
fully  to  state  them,  a  volume  instead  of  a  page  would  have  been 


1  The  letter  from  Forbes  to  Mr.  Buskin  (dated  December  2,  1864)  was 
presumably  elicited  by  the  allusions  to  Forbes  in  Mr.  Buskin's  letter 
to  the  Reader  of  November  26,  1874  (see  ante,  pp.  171-176).  41  Ad- 
vancing years  and  permanently  depressed  state  of  health,7'  ran  the  let- 
ter, 44  have  taken  the  edge  off  the  bitterness  which  the  injustice- 1  have 
experienced  caused  me  during  many  years.  But  .  .  .  the  old  fire  re- 
vives within  me  when  I  see  any  one  willing  and  courageous,  like  you, 
to  remember  an  old  friend,  and  to  show  that  you  do  so."  The  second 
letter  speaks  of  the  writer's  44  boyish  enthusiasm "  for  Agassiz,  an  expres- 
sion to  which  Mr.  Buskin  appends  this  note  :  "The  italics  are  mine.  I 
think  this  incidental  and  naive  proof  of  the  way  in  which  Forbes  had 
spoken  of  Agassiz  to  his  class,  of  the  greatest  value  and  beautiful  inter- 
est.— J.  R." 

2  In  the  first  edition  of  Modern  Painters  (vol.  i.  p.  830)  it  was  stated 
that  4  4  the  horizontal  lines  cast  by  clouds  upon  the  sea  are  not  shadows, 
but  reflections  ;  n  and  that  44  on  clear  water  near  the  eye  there  can  never 
be  even  the  appearance  of  shadow."  This  statement  being  questioned 
in  a  letter  to  the  Art  Union  Journal  (November,  1843),  and  that  letter 
being  itself  criticised  in  a  review  of  Modern  Painters  in  the  Artist  and 
Amateur's  Magazine,  p.  262  (December,  1843),  there  appeared  in  the 
last-named  periodical  two  letters  upon  the  subject,  of  which  one  was 
from  J.  H.  Maw,  the  correspondent  of  the  Art  Union,  and  the  other— 
that  reprinted  here— a  reply  from  "  The  Author  of  Modern  Painters." 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


187 


required  for  the  task.  In  the  paragraphs  1  which  I  devoted  to 
the  subject  I  expressed,  as  briefly  as  possible,  the  laws  which 
are  of  most  general  application — with  which  artists  are  indeed 
so  universally  familiar,  that  I  conceived  it  altogether  unneces- 
sary to  prove  or  support  them  :  but  since  I  have  expressed  them 
in  as  few  words  as  possible,  I  cannot  afford  to  have  any  of  those 
words  missed  or  disregarded  ;  and  therefore  when  I  say  that 
on  clear  water,  near  the  eye,  there  is  no  shadow,  I  must  not  be 
understood  to  mean  that  on  muddy  water,  far  from  the  eye 
there  is  no  shadow.  As,  however,  your  correspondent  appears 
to  deny  my  position  in  toto,  and  as  many  persons,  on  their  first 
glance  at  the  subject,  might  be  inclined  to  do  the  same,  you  will 
perhaps  excuse  me  for  occupying  a  page  or  two  with  a  more 
explicit  statement,  both  of  facts  and  principles,  than  my  limits 
admitted  in  the  "  Modern  Painters." 

First,  for  the  experimental  proof  of  my  assertion  that  "on 
clear  water,  near  the  eye,  there  is  no  shadow."  Your  corre- 
spondent's trial  with  the  tub  is  somewhat  cumbrous  and  incon- 
venient ; 2  a  far  more  simple  experiment  will  settle  the  matter. 
Fill  a  tumbler  with  water  ;  throw  into  it  a  narrow  strip  of  white 
paper ;  put  the  tumbler  into  sunshine  ;  dip  your  finger  into 
the  water  between  the  paper  and  the  sun,  so  as  to  throw  a 
shadow  across  the  paper  and  on  the  water.  The  shadow  will 
of  coarse  be  distinct  on  the  paper,  but  on  the  water  absolutely 
and  totally  invisible. 


1  The  passages  in  Modern  Painters  referred  to  in  this  letter  were  con- 
siderably altered  and  enlarged  in  later  editions  of  the  work,  and  the 
exact  words  quoted  are  not  to  be  found  in  it  as  finally  revised.  The 
reader  is,  however,  referred  to  vol.  i  part  h\,  §  v.,  chap.  i.?  "  Of  Water 
as  painted  by  the  Ancients,"  in  whatever  edition  of  the  book  he  may 
c  hance  to  meet  with  or  possess. 

-  See  the  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine,  p.  313,  where  the  author  of 
the  letter,  to  which  this  is  a  reply,  adduced  in  support  of  his  views  the 
following  experiment,  viz.  :  to  put  a  tub  filled  with  clear  water  in  the 
sunlight,  and  then  taking  an  opaque  screen  with  a  hole  cut  in  it,  to 
place  the  same  in  such  a  position  as  to  intercept  the  light  falling  upon 
the  tub.  Then,  he  argued,  cover  the  hole  over,  and  the  tub  will  be  in 
shadow ;  uncover  it  again,  and  a  patch  of  light  will  fall  on  the  water, 
proving  that  water  is  not  "  insusceptible  of  light  as  well  as  shadow." 


188 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAOM. 


This  simple  trial  of  the  fact,  and  your  explanation  of  the 
principle  given  in  your  ninth  number, 1  are  sufficient  proof  and 
explanation  of  my  assertion  ;  and  if  your  correspondent  re- 
quires authority  as  well  as  ocular  demonstration,  he  has  only 
to  ask  Stanfield  or  Copley  Fielding,  or  any  other  good- painter 
of  sea  ;  the  latter,  indeed,  was  the  person  who  first  pointed 
out  the  fact  to  me  when  a  boy.  What  then,  it  remains  to  b6 
determined,  are  those  lights  and  shades  on  the  sea,  which,  for 
the  sake  of  clearness,  and  because  they  appear  such  to  the  or- 
dinary observer,  I  have  spoken  of  as  "  horizontal  lines,"  and 
which  have  every  appearance  of  being  cast  by  the  clouds  like 
real  shadows  ?  I  imagined  that  I  had  been  sufficiently  explicit 
on  this  subject  both  at  pages  330  and  363  ; 2  but  your  corre- 
spondent appears  to  have  confused  himself  by  inaccurately  re- 
ceiving the  term  shadow  as  if  it  meant  darkness  of  any  kind  ; 
whereas  my  second  sentence — "  every  darkness  on  water  is  re- 
flection, not  shadow  " — might  have  shown  him  that  I  used  it 
in  its  particular  sense,  as  meaning  the  absence  of  positive  light 
on  a  visible  surface.  Thus,  in  endeavoring  to  support  his  as- 
sertion that  the  shadows  on  the  sea  are  as  distinct  as  on  a 
grass  field,  he  says  that  they  are  so  by  contrast  with  the  "light 
reflected  from  its  polished  surface  ; "  thus  showing  at  once  that 
he  lias  been  speaking  and  thinking  all  along,  not  of  shadow, 
but  of  the  absence  of  reflected  light — an  absence  which  is  no 
more  shadow  than  the  absence  of  the  image  of  a  piece  of  white 
paper  in  a  mirror  is  shadow  on  the  mirror. 

The  question,  therefore,  is  one  of  terms  rather  than  of 
things  ;  and  before  proceeding  it  will  be  necessary  for  me  to 
make  your  correspondent  understand  thoroughly  what  is  meant 
by  the  term  shadow  as  opposed  to  that  of  reflection. 

Let  us  stand  on  the  sea-shore  on  a  cloudless  night,  with  a 
full  moon  over  the  sea,  and  a  swell  on  the  water.  Of  course  a 
long  line  of  splendor  will  be  seen  on  the  waves  under  the 


1  In  the  review  of  Modern  Painters  mentioned  above. 

2  Of  the  first  edition  of  the  first  volume  of  Modern  Painters.  The 
size  of  the  book  (and  consequently  the  paging)  was  afterwards  altered  to 
suit  the  engravings  contained  in  the  last  three  volumes. 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


189 


moon,  reaching  from  the  horizon  to  our  very  feet.  But  are 
those  waves  between  the  moon  and  us  actually  more  illumi- 
nated than  any  other  part  of  the  sea  ?  Not  one  whit.  The 
whole  surface  of  the  sea  is  under  the  same  full  light,  but  the 
waves  between  the  moon  and  us  are  the  only  ones  which  are 
in  a  position  to  reflect  that  light  to  our  eyes.  The  sea  on  both 
sides  of  that  path  of  light  is  in  perfect  darkness — almost  black. 
But  is  it  so  from  shadow  ?  Not  so,  for  there  is  nothing  to  in- 
tercept the  moonlight  from  it :  it  is  so  from  position,  because 
it  cannot  reflect  any  of  the  rays  which  fall  on  it  to  our  eyes, 
but  reflects  instead  the  dark  vault  of  the  night  sky.  Both  the 
darkness  and  the  light  on  it,  therefore — and  they  are  as  vio- 
lently contrasted  as  may  well  be — are  nothing  but  reflections, 
the  whole  surface  of  the  water  being  under  one  blaze  of  moon- 
light, entirely  unshaded  by  any  intervening  object  whatso- 
ever. 1 

Now,  then,  we  can  understand  the  cause  of  the  chiaro-scuro 
of  the  sea  by  daylight  with  lateral  sun.  Where  the  sunlight 
reaches  the  water,  every  ripple,  wave,  or  swell  reflects  to  the 
eye  from  some  of  its  planes  either  the  image  of  the  sun  or 
some  portion  of  the  neighboring  bright  sky.  Where  the  cloud 
interposes  between  the  sun  and  sea,  all  these  luminous  reflec- 
tions are  prevented,  and  the  raised  planes  of  the  waves  reflect 
only  the  dark  under-surface  of  the  cloud  ;  and  hence,  by  the 
multiplication  of  the  images,  spaces  of  light  and  shade  are 
produced,  which  lie  on  the  sea  precisely  in  the  position  of 
real  or  positive  lights  and  shadows — corresponding  to  the 
outlines  of  the  clouds — laterally  cast,  and  therefore  seen  in 
addition  to,  and  at  the  same  time  with,  the  ordinary  or  direct 
reflection,  vigorously  contrasted,  the  lights  being  often  a  blaze 
of  gold,  and  the  shadows  a  dark  leaden  gray  ;  and  yet,  I  re- 
peat, they  are  no  more  real  lights,  or  real  shadows,  on  the  sea, 
than  the  image  of  a  black  coat  is  a  shadow  on  a  mirror,  or  the 
image  of  white  paper  a  light  upon  it. 

1  It  may  be  worth  noting  that  the  optical  delusion  above  explained  is 
described  at  some  length  by  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  (The  Study  of  Sociol- 
ogy, p.  191,  London,  1874)  as  one  of  the  commonest  instances  of  popu- 
lar ignorance. 


190 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


Are  there,  then,  no  shadows  whatsoever  upon  the  sea? 
Not  so.  My  assertion  is  simply  that  there  are  none  on  clear 
water  near  the  eye.  I  shall  briefly  state  a  few  of  the  circum- 
stances which  give  rise  to  real  shadow  in  distant  effect. 

I.  Any  admixture  of  opaque  coloring  matter,  as  of  mud, 
chalk,  or  powdered  granite  renders  water  capable  of  distinct 
shadow,  which  is  cast  on  the  earthly  and  solid  particles  sus- 
pended in  the  liquid.  None  of  the  seas  on  our  south-eastern 
coast  are  so  clear  as  to  be  absolutely  incapable  of  shade  ;  and 
the  faint  tint,  though  scarcely  perceptible  to  a  near  observer,* 
is  sufficiently  manifest  when  seen  in  large  extent  from  a  dis- 
tance, especially  when  contrasted,  as  your  correspondent  says, 
with  reflected  lights.  This  was  one  reason  for  my  introduc- 
ing the  words — "  near  the  eye." 

There  is,  however,  a  peculiarity  in  the  appearances  of  such 
shadows  which  requires  especial  notice.  It  is  not  merely  the 
transparency  of  water,  but  its  polished  surface,  and  consequent 
reflective  power,  which  render  it  incapable  of  shadow.  A  per- 
fectly opaque  body,  if  its  power  of  reflection  be  perfect,  re- 
ceives no  shadow  (this  I  shall  presently  prove)  ;  and  therefore, 
in  any  lustrous  body,  the  incapability  of  shadow  is  in  propor- 
tion to  the  power  of  reflection.  Now  the  power  of  reflection 
in  water  varies  with  the  angle  of  the  impinging  ray,  being  of 
course  greatest  when  that  angle  is  least :  and  thus,  when  we 
look  along  the  water  at  a  low  angle,  its  power  of  reflection 
maintains  its  incapability  of  shadow  to  a  considerable  extent, 
in  spite  of  its  containing  suspended  opaque  matter ;  whereas, 
when  we  look  down  upon  water  from  a  height,  as  we  then 
receive  from  it  only  rays  which  have  fallen  on  it  at  a  large 
angle,  a  great  number  of  those  rays  are  unreflected  from  the 
surface,  but  penetrate  beneath  the  surface,  and  are  then  re- 
flected f  from  the  suspended  opaque  matter  :  thus  rendering 

*  Of  course,  if  water  be  perfectly  foul,  like  that  of  the  Rhine 
or  Arve,  it  receives  a  shadow  nearly  as  well  as  mud.  Yet  the 
succeeding  observations  on  its  reflective  power  are  applicable 
to  it,  even  in  this  state. 

f  It  must  always  be  remembered  that  there  are  two  kinds  of 
reflection, — one  from  polished  bodies,  giving  back  rays  of  light 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


191 


shadows  clearly  visible  which,  at  a  small  angle,  would  have 
been  altogether  unperceived. 

II.  But  it  is  not  merely  the  presence  of  opaque  matter 
which  renders  shadows  visible  on  the  sea  seen  from  a  height. 
The  eye,  when  elevated  above  the  water,  receives  rays  reflected 
from  the  bottom,  of  which,  when  near  the  water,  it  is  insensi- 
ble. I  have  seen  the  bottom  at  seven  fathoms,  so  that  I  could 
count  its  pebbles,  from  the  cliffs  of  the  Cornish  coast ;  and  the 
broad  effect  of  the  light  and  shade  of  the  bottom  is  discernible 
at  enormous  depths.  In  fact,  it  is  difficult  to  say  at  what 
depth  the  rays  returned  from  the  bottom  become  absolutely 
ineffective — perhaps  not  until  we  get  fairly  out  into  blue 
water.  Hence,  with  a  white  or  sandy  shore,  shadows  forcible 
enough  to  afford  conspicuous  variety  of  color  may  be  seen 
from  a  height  of  two  or  three  hundred  feet. 


unaltered  ;  the  other  from  unpolished  bodies,  giving  back  rays 
of  light  altered.  By  the  one  reflection  we  see  the  images  of 
other  objects  on  the  surface  of  the  reflecting  object ;  by  the 
other  we  are  made  aware  of  that  surface  itself.  The  difference 
between  these  two  kinds  of  reflection  has  not  been  well  worked 
by  writers  on  optics  ;  but  the  great  distinction  between  them 
is,  that  the  rough  body  reflects  most  rays  when  the  angle  at 
which  the  rays  impinge  is  largest,  and  the  polished  body  when 
the  angle  is  smallest.  It  is  the  reflection  from  polished  bodies 
exclusively  which  I  usually  indicate  by  the  term  ;  and  that 
from  rough  bodies  I  commonly  distinguish  as  "positive  light :" 
but  as  I  have  here  used  the  term  in  its  general  sense,  the  ex- 
planation of  the  distinction. becomes  necessary.  All  light  and 
shade  on  matter  is  caused  by  reflection  of  some  kind  ;  and  the 
distinction  made  throughout  this  paper  between  reflected  and 
positive  light,  and  between  real  and  pseudo  shadow,  is  nothing 
more  than  the  distinction  between  two  kinds  of  reflection. 

I  believe  some  of  Bouguer's  1  experiments  have  been  ren- 
dered inaccurate — not  in  their  general  result,  nor  in  ratio  of 
quantities,  but  in  the  quantities  themselves — by  the  difficulty 
of  distinguishing  between  the  two  kind  of  reflected  rays. 


i  Pierre  Bouguer,  author  of,  amongst  other  works,  the  Traite 
cVOptique  sur  la  Gradation  de  la  Lumiere.  He  was  born  in  1698,  and 
died  in  1758. 


192 


ARROW 8  OF  THE  CHAGE. 


III.  The  actual  color  of  the  sea  itself  is  an  important  cause 
of  shadow  in  distant  effect.  Of  the  ultimate  causes  of  local 
color  in  water  I  am  not  ashamed  tc  confess  my  total  ignorance, 
for  I  believe  Sir  David  Brewster  himself  has  not  elucidated 
them.  Every  river  in  Switzerland  has  a  different  hue.  The 
lake  of  Geneva,  commonly  blue,  appears,  under  a  fresh  breeze, 
striped  with  blue  and  bright  red ;  and  the  hues  of  coast-sea 
are  as  various  as  those  of  a  dolphin  ;  but,  whatever  be  the 
cause  of  their  variety,  their  intensity  is,  of  course,  dependent 
on  the  presence  of  sunlight.  The  sea  under  shade  is  common- 
ly of  a  cold  gray  hue  ;  in  the  sunlight  it  is  susceptible  of  vivid 
and  exquisite  coloring  :  and  thus  the  forms  of  clouds  are 
traced  on  its  surface,  not  by  light  and  shade,  but  by  variation 
of  color  by  grays  opposed  to  greens,  blues  to  rose-tints,  etc. 
All  such  phenomena  are  chiefly  visible  from  a  height  and  a 
distance  ;  and  thus  furnished  me  with  additional  reasons  for 
introducing  the  words — "  near  the  eye." 

IV.  Local  color  is,  however,  the  cause  of  one  beautiful  kind 
of  chiaro-scuro,  visible  when  we  are  close  to  the  water — 
shadows  cast,  not  on  the  waves,  but  through  them,  as  through 
misty  air.  When  a  wave  is  raised  so  as  to  let  the  sun-light 
through  a  portion  of  its  body,  the  contrast  of  the  transparent 
chrysoprase  green  of  the  illuminated  parts  with  the  darkness 
of  the  shadowed  is  exquisitely  beautiful. 

Hitherto,  however,  I  have  been  speaking  chiefly  of  the 
transparency  of  water  as  the  source  of  its  incapability  of 
shadow.  I  have  still  to  demonstrate  the  effect  of  its  polished 
surface. 

Let  your  correspondent  pour  an  ounce  or  two  of  quicksilver 
into  a  flat  white  saucer,  and,  throwing  a  strip  of  white  paper 
into  the  middle  of  the  mercury,  as  before  into  the  water,  inter- 
pose an  upright  bit  of  stick  between  it  and  the  sun  :  he  will 
then  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  shadow  of  the  stick 
sharply  defined  on  the  paper  and  the  edge  of  the  saucer,  while 
on  the  intermediate  portion  of  mercury  it  will  be  totally  invisi- 
ble.*  Mercury  is  a  perfectly  opaque  body,  and  its  incapability 


f  The  mercury  must  of  course  be  perfectly  clean. 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE, 


193 


of  shadow  is  entirely  owing  to  the  perfection  of  its  polished 
surface.  Thus,  then,  whether  water  be  considered  as  trans- 
parent or  reflective  (and  according  to  its  position  it  is  one  or  the 
other,  or  partially  both — for  in  the  exact  degree  that  it  is  the 
one,  it  is  not  the  other),  it  is  equally  incapable  of  shadow.  But 
as  on  distant  water,  so  also  on  near  water,  when  broken,  pseudo 
shadows  take  place,  which  are  in  reality  nothing  more  than 
the  aggregates  of  reflections.  In  the  illuminated  space  of  the 
wave,  from  every  plane  turned  towards  the  sun  there  flashes 
an  image  of  the  sun  ;  in  the  im-iliuminated  space  there  is  seen 
on  every  such  plane  only  the  dark  image  of  the  interposed 
body.  Every  wreath  of  the  foam,  every  jet  of  the  spray,  re- 
flects in  the  sunlight  a  thousand  diminished  suns,  and  refracts 
their  rays  into  a  thousand  colors  ;  while  in  the  shadowed  parts 
the  same  broken  parts  of  the  wave  appear  only  in  dead,  cold 
white  ;  and  thus  pseudo  shadows  are  caused,  occupying  the 
position  of  real  shadows,  defined  in  portions  of  their  edge  with 
equal  sharpness:  and  yet,  I  repeat,  they  are  no  more  real 
shadows  than  the  image  of  a  piece  of  black  cloth  is  a  shadow 
on  a  mirror. 

But  your  correspondent  will  say,  "  What  does  it  matter  to 
me,  or  to  the  artist,  whether  they  are  shadows  or  not?  They 
are  darkness,  and  they  supply  the  place  of  shadows,  and  that 
it  is  all  I  contend  for."  Not  so.  They  do  not  supply  the 
place  of  shadows  ;  they  are  divided  from  them  by  this  broad 
distinction,  that  while  shadow  causes  uniform  deepening  of 
the  ground-tint  in  the  objects  which  it  affects,  these  pseudo 
shadows  are  merely  portions  of  that  ground-tint  itself  undeep- 
ened,  but  cut  out  and  rendered  conspicuous  by  flashes  of  light 
irregularly  disposed  around  it.  The  ground-tint  both  of  shad- 
owed and  illumined  parts  is  precisely  the  same — a  pure  pale 
gray,  catching  as  it  moves  the  hues  of  the  sky  and  clouds  ; 
but  on  this,  in  the  illumined  spaces,  there  fall  touches  and 
flashes  of  intense  reflected  light,  which  are  absent  in  the 
shadow.  If,  for  the  sake  of  illustration,  we  consider  the  wave 
as  hung  with  a  certain  quantity  of  lamps,  irregularly  dis- 
posed, the  shape  and  extent  of  a  shadow  on  that  wave  will 
be  marked  by  the  Jamps  being  all  put  out  within  its  in- 


194 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Gil  ACE, 


fluenee,  while  the  tint  of  the  water  itself  is  entirely  un* 
affected  by  it. 

The  works  of  Stanfield  will  supply  your  correspondent  with 
perfect  and  admirable  illustrations  of  this  principle.  His 
water-tint  is  equally  clear  and  luminous  whether  in  sunshine 
or  shade  ;  but  the  whole  lustre  of  the  illumined  parts  is  at- 
tained by  bright  isolated  touches  of  reflected  light. 

The  works  of  Turner  will  supply  us  with  still  more  striking 
examples,  especially  in  cases  where  slanting  sunbeams  are 
cast  from  a  low  sun  along  breakers,  when  the  shadows  will  be 
found  in  a  state  of  perpetual  transition,  now  defined  for  an 
instant  on  a  mass  of  foam,  then  lost  in  an  interval  of  smooth 
water,  then  coming  through  the  body  of  a  transparent  wave, 
then  passing  off  into  the  air  upon  the  dust  of  the  spray — sup- 
plying, as  they  do  in  nature,  exhaustless  combinations  of  ethe- 
real beauty.  From  Turner's  habit  of  choosing  for  his  sub- 
jects sea  much  broken  with  foam,  the  shadows  in  his  works 
are  more  conspicuous  than  in  Stanfield's,  and  may  be  studied 
to  greater  advantage.  To  the  works  of  these  great  painters, 
those  of  Vandevelde  may  be  opposed  for  instances  of  the  im- 
possible. The  black  shadows  of  this  latter  painter's  neai 
waves  supply  us  with  innumerable  and  most  illustrative  exan> 
pies  of  everything  which  sea  shadows  are  not. 

Finally,  let  me  recommend  your  correspondent,  if  he  wishes 
to  obtain  perfect  knowledge  of  the  effects  of  shadow  on  water, 
whether  calm  or  agitated,  to  go  through  a  systematic  exami- 
nation of  the  works  of  Turner.  He  will  find  every  phenome- 
non of  this  kind  noted  in  them  with  the  most  exquisite  fidel- 
ity. The  Alnwick  Castle,  with  the  shadow  of  the  bridge  cast 
on  the  dull  surface  of  the  moat,  and  mixing  with  the  reflec- 
tion, is  the  most  finished  piece  of  water-painting  with  which  I 
am  acquainted.  Some  of  the  recent  Venices  have  afforded  ex- 
quisite instances  of  the  change  of  color  in  water  caused  by 
shadow,  the  illumined  water  being  transparent  and  green, 
while  in  the  shade  it  loses  its  own  color,  and  takes  the  blue  of 
the  sky. 

But  I  have  already,  Sir,  occupied  far  too  many  of  your  valu- 
able pages,  and  I  must  close  the  subject,  although  hundreds 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


195 


of  points  occur  to  me  which  I  have  not  yet  illustrated.*  The 
discussion  respecting  the  Grotto  of  Capri  is  somewhat  irrele- 
vant, and  I  will  not  enter  upon  it,  as  thousands  of  laws  re- 
specting light  and  color  are  there  brought  into  play,  in 
addition  to  the  water's  incapability  of  shadow.1  But  it  is 
somewhat  singular  that  the  Newtonian  principle,  which  your 
correspondent  enunciates  in  conclusion,  is  the  very  cause  of 
the  incapability  of  shadow  which  he  disputes.  I  am  not,  how- 
ever, writing  a  treatise  on  optics,  and  therefore  can  at  present 
do  no  more  than  simply  explain  what  the  Newtonian  law  act- 
ually signifies,  since,  by  your  correspondent's  enunciation  of 
it,  "  pellucid  substances  reflect  light  only  from  their  surfaces,', 
an  inexperienced  reader  might  be  led  to  conclude  that  opaque 
bodies  reflected  light  from  something  else  than  their  surfaces. 

The  law  is,  that  whatever  number  of  rays  escape  reflection 
at  the  surface  of  the  water,  pass  through  its  body  without 
farther  reflection,  being  therein  weakened,  but  not  reflected  ; 
but  that,  where  they  pass  out  of  the  water  again,  as,  for  in- 
stance, if  there  be  air-bubbles  at  the  bottom,  giving  an  under- 
surface  to  the  water,  there  a  number  of  rays  are  reflected 
from  that  under-surface,  and  do  not  pass  out  of  the  water,  but 
return  to  the  eye  ;  thus  causing  the  bright  luminosity  of  the 
under  bubbles.  Thus  water  reflects  from  both  its  surfaces — 
it  reflects  it  when  passing  out  as  well  as  when  entering  ;  but 
it  reflects  none  whatever  from  its  own  interior  mass.  If  it 
did,  it  would  be  capable  of  shadow. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir, 

Your  most  obedient  servant, 
The  Author  of  "  Modern  Painters." 

*  Among  other  points,  I  have  not  explained  why  water, 
though  it  has  no  shadow,  has  a  dark  side.  The  cause  of  this 
is  the  Newtonian  law  noticed  below,  that  water  weakens  the 
rays  passing  through  its  mass,  though  it  reflects  none ;  and, 
also,  that  it  reflects  rays  from  both  surfaces. 

1  The  review  of  Modern  Painters  had  mentioned  the  Grotto  of  Capri, 
near  Naples,  as  "  a  very  beautiful  illustration  of  the  great  quantity  of 
light  admitted  or  contained  in  water,"  and  on  this  Mr.  J.  H.  Maw  had 
commented. 


196 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


Fig.  1. 


[From  u  The  London  Review/'  May  16,  1861.] 

THE  REFLECTION  OF  RAINBOWS  IN  WATER.1 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  London  Review:' 

Sir  :  I  do  not  think  there  is  much  difficulty  in  the  rainbow 
business.    We  cannot  see  the  reflection  of  the  same  rainbow 

which  we  behold  in 
the  sky,  but  we  see 
the  reflection  of  an- 
other invisible  one 
within  it  Suppose  a 
and  b,  Fig.  1,  are  two 
falling  raindrops,  and 
the  spectator  is  at  s, 
and  x  y  is  the  water 
surface.  If  r  a  s  be 
a  sun  ray  giving,  we 
will  say,  the  red  ray  in  the  visible  rainbow,  the  ray,  b  c  s, 
will  give  the  same  red  ray,  reflected  from  the  water  at  c. 

It  is  rather  a  long  business  to  examine  the  lateral  angles, 
and  I  have  not  time  to  do  it ;  but  I  presume  the  result  would 
be,  that  if  a  m  b,  Fig. 
2,  be  the  visible  rain- 
bow, and  x  y  the  water 
horizon,  the  reflec- 
tion will  be  the  dotted 
line  c  e  d,  reflecting, 
that  is  to  say,  the  in- 
visible bow,  end; 
thus,  the  terminations 
of  the  arcs  of  the  vis- 
ible and  reflected 
bows  do  not  coincide.  FlQ-  2- 

The  interval,  m  n,  depends  on  the  position  of  the  spectator 
with  respect  to  the  water  surface.    The  thing  can  hardly  ever 


1  The  London  Review  of  May  4  contained  a  critique  of  the  Exhibition 
of  the  Society  of  Water-colors,  which  included  a  notice  of  Mr.  Duncan's 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE, 


197 


be  seen  in  nature,  for  if  there  be  rain  enough  to  carry  the 
bow  to  the  water  surface,  that  surface  will  be  ruffled  by  the 
drops,  and  incapable  of  reflection. 

Whenever  I  have  seen  a  rainbow  over  water  (sea,  mostly), 
it  has  stood  on  it  reflectionless ;  but  interrupted  conditions  of 
rain  might  be  imagined  which  would  present  reflection  on 
near  surfaces. 

Always  very  truly  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

7th  May,  1861. 

[From  "  The  Proceedings  of  the  Ashmolean  Society,"  May  10,  184i.] 

A  LANDSLIP  NEAR  GIAGNANO. 

"The  Secretary  read  a  letter  1  from  J.  Ruskin,  Esq.,  of 
Christ  Church,  dated  Naples,  February  7, 1841,  and  addressed 
to  Dr.  Buckland, 2  giving  a  description  of  a  recent  landslip 
near  that  place,  which  had  occasioned  a  great  loss  of  life  :  it 
occurred  at  the  village  of  Giagnano,  near  Castel-a-mare,  on 
the  22 d  of  January  last.  The  village  is  situated  on  the  slope 
of  a  conical  hill  of  limestone,  not  less  than  1400  feet  in  height, 
and  composed  of  thin  beds  similar  to  those  which  form  the 
greater  part  of  the  range  of  Sorrento.  The  hill  in  question  is 
nearly  isolated,  though  forming  part  of  the  range,  the  slope  of 
its  sides  uniform,  and  inclined  at  not  less  than  40°.  Assisted 
by  projecting  ledges  of  the  beds  of  rock,  a  soil  has  accumulated 
on  this  slope  three  or  four  feet  in  depth,  rendering  it  quite 
smooth  and  uniform.  The  higher  parts  are  covered  in  many 
places  with  brushwood,  the  lower  with  vines  trellised  over  old 
mulberry  trees.  There  are  slight  evidences  of  recent  aqueous 
action  on  the  sides  of  the  hill,  a  few  gullies  descending  tow- 
ards the  east  side  of  the  village.    After  two  days  of  heavy 

"Shiplake,  on  the  Thames"  (No.  52).  In  this  picture  the  artist  had 
painted  a  rainbow  reflected  in  the  water,  the  truth  of  which  to  nature 
was  questioned  by  some  of  his  critics.  Mr.  Ruskin's  was  not  the  only 
letter  in  support  of  the  picture's  truth. 

1  The  present  letter  is  the  earliest  in  date  of  any  in  these  volumes. 

2  See  note  to  p.  178. 


198 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


rain,  on  the  evening  of  January  22,  a  torrent  of  water  burst 
down  on  the  village  to  the  west  of  these  gullies,  and  the  soil 
accumulated  on  the  side  of  the  hill  gave  way  in  a  wedge- 
shaped  mass,  the  highest  point  being  about  600  feet  above  the 
houses,  and  slid  down,  leaving  the  rocks  perfectly  bare.  It 
buried  the  nearest  group  of  cottages,  and  remained  heaped  up 
in  longitudinal  layers  above  them,  whilst  the  water  ran  in  tor- 
rents over  the  edge  towards  the  plain,  sweeping  away  many 
more  houses  in  its  course.  To  the  westward  of  this  point 
another  slip  took  place  of  smaller  dimensions  than  the  first, 
but  coming  on  a  more  crowded  part  of  the  village,  over- 
whelmed it  completely,  occasioning  the  loss  of  116  lives." 


[From  "  The  Athenjeum,"  February  14.  1857.] 

THE  GENTIAN} 

Denmark  Hill,  Feb.  10. 
If  your  correspondent  "  Y.  L.  Y."  will  take  a  little  trouble 
in  inquiring  into  the  history  of  the'gentian,  he  will  find  that, 
as  is  the  case  with  most  other  flowers,  there  are  many  species 
of  it.  He  knows  the  dark  blue  gentian  (Gentiana  acaulis) 
because  it  grows,  under  proper  cultivation,  as  healthily  in 
England  as  on  the  Alps.  And  he  has  not  seen  the  pale  blue 
gentian  (Gentiana  verna)  shaped  like  a  star,  and  of  the  color 
of  the  sky,  because  that  flower  grows  unwillingly,  if  at  all, 
except  on  its  native  rocks.  I  consider  it,  therefore,  as  specially 
characteristic  of  Alpine  scenery,  while  its  beauty,  to  my  mind, 
far  exceeds  that  of  the  darker  species. 

I  have,  etc., 

J.  KlJSKIN. 

1  In  the  Notes  on  the  Turner  Gallery  at  Marlborough  House,  1856 
(p.  23),  Mr.  Ruskin  speaks  of  the  upale  ineffable  azure  "  of  the  gentian. 
The  present  letter  was  written  in  reply  to  one  signed  "  Y.  L.  Y."  in  the 
Athenaeum  of  February  7,  1857  in  which  this  expression  was  criticised. 
In  a  subsequent  issue  of  the  same  journal  (February  21)  Mr.  Ruskin's 
querist  denied  the  ignorance  imputed  to  him,  and  still  questioned  the 
propriety  of  calling  the  gentian  "pale,"  without  at  the  same  time  dis- 
tinguishing the  two  species. 


LETTERS  ON  SCIENCE. 


199 


[Date  and  place  of  original  publication  unknown.] 

ON  THE  STUDY  OF  NATURAL  HISTORY. 

To  Adam  White,  of  Edinburgh. 

It  would  be  pleasing  alike  to  my  personal  vanity  and  to  the 
instinct  of  making  myself  serviceable,  which  I  will  fearlessly 
say  is  as  strong  in  me  as  vanity,  if  I  could  think  that  any  letter 
of  mine  would  be  helpful  to  you  in  the  recommendation  of  the 
study  of  natural  history,  as  one  of  the  best  elements  of  early 
as  of  late  education.  I  believe  there  is  no  child  so  dull  or  so 
indolent  but  it  may  be  roused  to  wholesome  exertion  by  putting 
some  practical  and  personal  work  on  natural  history  within  its 
range  of  daily  occupation  ;  and,  once  aroused,  few  pleasures 
are  so  innocent,  and  none  so  constant.  I  have  often  been 
unable,  through  sickness  or  anxiety,  to  follow  my  own  art 
work,  but  I  have  never  found  natural  history  fail  me,  either 
as  a  delight  or  a  medicine.  But  for  children  it  must  be  curtly 
and  wisely  taught.  We  must  show  them  things,  not  tell  them 
names.  A  deal  chest  of  drawers  is  worth  many  books  to  them, 
and  a  well-guided  country  walk  worth  a  hundred  lectures. 

I  heartily  wish  you,  not  only  for  your  sake,  but  for  that  of 
the  young  thistle  buds  of  Edinburgh,  success  in  promulgating 
your  views  and  putting  them  in  practice. 

Always  believe  me  faithfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


END  OF  VOLUME  L 


VOLUME  TWO 

LETTERS  ON  POLITICS.  ECONOMY, 

AND 

MISCELLANEOUS  MATTERS 


NOTE  TO  THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


The  letters  relating  to  Mr.  Rtiskin's  Candidature  for  the  Lord  Rectorship 
of  Glasgoio  University  were  'published  when  this  volume  was  almost  out  of  tin 
printers'  hands.  They  have  however  been  included,  by  Mr.  Raskin' s  wish, 
and  will  be  found  at  the  end  of  this  volume,  where  a  letter  to  the  late  Mr. 
W.  H.  Harrison,  which  has  just  been  brought  to  my  notice,  and  two  very 
recent  letters  on  Dramatic  Reform,  have,  at  the  cost  of  some  delay*  been  alse 
added. — [Ed.] 

November  15,  1880. 


204  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  THE  LETTERS 

Note. — In  the  second  and  third  columns  the  bracketed  words  and  figures  are  more  or 


Title  of  Letter. 


Letter  to  W.  C.  Bennett,  LL.D  

Letter  to  Dr.  Guthrie  

Letter  to  W.  H.  Harrison  

"  Limner  w  and  Illumination  

The  Animals  of  Scripture  :  a  Review.  

The  Sale  of  Mr.  Windus'  Pictures  , 

The  Italian  Question  , 

4  1  44 
li  44 

Coventry  Patm ore's  "  Faithful  for  Ever  " 

Proverbs  on  Right  Dress  , 

Oak  Silkworms  

The  Depreciation  of  Gold  

The  Foreign  Policy  of  England  

The  Position  of  Denmark  

The  Law  of  Supply  and  Demand  

U  41  44 

U  ti  it 

Strikes  v.  Arbitration  

Work  and  Wages  

41  44 

4(  44 
4  4  44 

Domestic  Servants — Mastership  

44  44  Experience  

44  44  Sonship  and  Slavery 

Modern  Houses  

Our  Railway  System  

The  Jamaica  Insurrection  

At  the  Play  

The  Standard  of  Wages  

An  Object  of  Charity  

True  Education  

Excuse  from  Correspondence. .  „  

Is  England  Big  Enough  ?  

The  Ownership  of  Railways  

Railway  Economy  

Employment  for  the  Destitute  Poor,  etc.. 

Notes  on  the  Destitute  Classes,  etc  

The  Morality  of  Field  Sports  

Female  Franchise  

The  Franco-Prussian  War  

41  44  a 

Sad-Colored  Costumes  

Railway  Safety  

A  King's  First  Duty  

A  Nation's  Defences  

The  Waters  of  Comfort  

The  Streams  of  Italy  

Woman's  Sphere  (extract)  

The  44  Queen  of  the  Air"  

Drunkenness  and  Crime  

The  Streets  of  London  ,  


Written. 


Heme  Hill,  Dulwich.. 
[Edinburgh]  

[Heme  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Berlin  

Berlin  

Schaffhausen  

Denmark  Hill  

Geneva  

Geneva  

Chamounix  

Zurich  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill,  S  

Denmark  Hill,  S  

Denmark  Hill,  S  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill,  S.E  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

Venice  

Denmark  Hill,  S.E.... 
[Denmark  Hill,  S.E.]. 
Denmark  Hill,  S.E. . . . 

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

Oxford  

Oxford  

[Oxford  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  


CONTAINED  IN 

less  certainly  conjectured ; 


THE  SECOND  VOLUME.  205 

whilst  those  unhracketed  give  the  actual  dating  of  the  letters. 


When  Written. 


Where  and  when  first  Published. 


December  28th,  1852  

Saturday,    26th    [Nov.  ?] 

1853  .'  

1853]  

December  3, 1854]  

January,  1 855]  . . . . .  

March  28  [1859]  

June  6,  1859  

June  15  [1859]  

August  1,  1859  

[October  21,  1860]  

October  20th,  1862  

October  20th  [1862]  

October  2  [1863]  

October  25th,  1863  

July  6  [1864]  

October  26  [1864]  

October  29  [1864]  

November  2  [1864]  

Easter  Monday,  1865  

Thursday,  April  20  [1865] 
Saturday,  April  22,  1865 . . 
Saturday,  29th  April,  1865 

May  4  [1865]  

May  20,  1865..  

September  2  [1865]  

September  6  [1865]  

September  16,  1865].... 

October  16  [1865]  

December  7  [1865]  , 

December  19  [1865]  .... 

February  28,  1867  

April  30,  1867  

January  21,  1868  

January  31,  1868  

2d  February,  1868  

July  30  [1868]  

August  5  [1868]  

August  9  [1868]  

December  24  [1868]  

Autumn,  1868]  

January  14  [1870]  

29th  May,  1870  

October  6  [1870]..  

October  7  [1870]  

14th  October,  1870  

November  29,  1870  

January  10  [1871]  

January  19,  1871  

February  3  [1871]  

February  3  [1871]  

February  19,  1871]  

May  18,  1871  

December  9  [1871]  .... 
Pecember27,  1871  


44  Testimonials  of  W.  C.  Bennett,"  1871. . . . 
u  Memoir    of   Thomas    Guthrie,  D.D.," 

(1875)  ,  :. 

The   Autographic   Mirror,   December  23, 

1865  

The  Builder,  December  9,  1854  

The  Morning  Chronicle,  January  20,  1855.. 

The  Times,  March  29,  1859  

The  Scotsman,  Julv  20,  1859   

July  23,  1859   

44  Aug.  6,  1859   ... 

The  Critic,  Oct.  27,  1860  

The  Monthly  Packet,  Nov.  1863   

The  Times,  Oct.  24,  1862  

The  Times,  Oct.  8,  1863  

The  Liverpool  Albion,  Nov.  2,  1863  

The  Morning  Post,  July  7,  1864  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Oct.  28,  1864  

"         14  Oct.  31,  1864  

"  Nov.  3,  1864  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  April  18,  1865  

"  41  April  21,  1865  

4  4  44  April  25,  1865  

May  2,  1865  

44  4  4  May  9,  1865  

May  22,  1865  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  September  5,  1865. . . 
44  ik          September  7,  1865... 

44  44         September  18,  1865.. 

4  4  4  4         October  17,  1865.... 

44         December  8, 1865..., 
44  "  December  20, 1865... 

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  March  1,  1867  

May  1,  1867  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  January  22,  1868  ... . 
The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  January  31,  1868. . ., 

Circular  printed  by  Mr.  Ruskm,  1868  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  July  31,  1868  

44  4k         August  6,  1868  

44         August  10, 1868  

14  44         December  26,1868.... 

Pamphlet  for  private  circulation,  1868  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  January  15,  1870.  

Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown. . . . 

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Oct.  7,  1870  

Oct.  8,  1870  

Macmiilan's  Magazine,  Nov.  1870  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Nov.  30,  1870  

*.*  41  January  12, 1871  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Jan.  19,  1871  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Feb.  4,  1871  

Feb.  7,  1871  

Feb.  21, 1871  

The  Asiatic,  May  23,  1871  

The  Daiiy  Telegraph,  Dec.  11,  1871  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Dec.  28,  1871  


Page. 


359 

360 

367 
352 
350 
361 
209 
214 
219 
346 
,336 
i340 
1 240 
1221 
1223 
241 
243 
246 
!249 
25i 
;253 
255 
260 
263 
286 
287 
289 
296 
283 
226 
361 
266 
362 
309 
|362 
275 
i277 
|279 
1817 
1318 
313 


335 

|227 

231 

338 

285 

300 

301 

303 

304 

836n 

349 

315 

307 


206  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  THE  LETTERS 


Title  of  Letter. 


Madness  and  Crime  

Letter  to  the  Author  of  a  Review. . , 

11  Act,  Act  in  the  Living  Present". , 
How  the  Rich  spend  their  Money . . 

U  11  It 

Woman's  Work  , 

Mr.  Ruskm  and  Professor  Hodgson 

"  Laborare  est  Orare  "  , 

The  Value  of  Lectures  

An  Oxford  Protest  

A  Mistaken  Review  

The  Position  of  Critics  

Commercial  Morality  

The  Publication  of  Books  

St.  George's  Museum  

The  Definition  of  Wealth  

The  Cradle  of  Art !  

Modern  Warfare  

The  Foundations  of  Chivalry  

a  u  u 

it  Ct  il 

u  it  ti 

Mr.  Buskin  and  Mr.  Lowe  

The  Principles  of  Property  

A  Pagan  Message  , 

Despair  (extract)  »  , 

The  Foundations  of  Chivalry  

Notes  on  a  Word  in  Shakespeare . . . 

The  Bibliography  of  Ruskm  

The  Society  of  the  Rose  

Blindness  and  Sight  

"The  Eagle's  Nest"  

On  Cooperation.    I  , 

Politics  in  Youth  

The  Merchant  of  Venice  (extract) . . 

Recitations  

Excuse  from  Correspondence  

On  Cooperation.  II  

The  Glasgow  Lord  Rectorship  

u  u  u 

tt  u  vi 

Dramatic  Reform.  I  

The  Glasgow  Lord  Rectorship  

Dramatic  Reform.    II. ,  


Where  Written. 


Oxford  

Oxford  

Oxford  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

[Brant wood,  Coniston]  . . . 
Brantwood,  Coniston  

[  ]  

Oxford  

Oxford  

Oxford  

Rome  

[Oxford  

Brantwood  

Brantwood  

[Heme  Hill  

Oxford  

Brantwood,  Coniston. 

Oxford  

[Oxford]  

[Brantwood]  

Venice  

Venice  

Venice  

Venice  

Brantwood,  Coniston.  . . . 

[Brantwood]  

Heme  Hill,  London,  S.E. 

[Oxford  

Mai  ham  

Brantwood   

Edinburgh  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

[Brantwood  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Sheffield  

[Heme  Hill,  S.E.]  

Sheffield  

[Brantwood]  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

[Brantwood]  

[Brantwood]  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood  

Rouen  

Amiens  


CONTAINED  IN  THE  SECOND  VOLUME. 


207 


When  Written. 


November  2  [1872]  

Wednesday,    October  30 

1872  

Christmas  Eve,  "J2. . 

January  23  [1873]  

January  28  [1873]  

King  Charles  the  Martyr, 

1873  

[May,  1873]    

November  8,  1873  

November  15,  1873   

December,  1873  

26th  May,  1874  

October'29,  1874]  

January  10  [1875]  

Januarv  18  [1875]   

February,  1875]  

June  6,  i875  

[September,  1875]  :  

9th  November,  1875   

18th  February,  1876  

June,  1876  

February  8th,  1877  

February  10th  [1877]  

11th  February  [1877]  

12th  February,  '77]  

August  24  [1877]  

10th  October,  1877  

19th  December,  1877  

February,  1878]  

July  3d,  1878  

[September,  1878]  

29th  September,  1878  

September  30,  1878  

October  23,  1878  

Early  in  1879]  

18th  July,  1879  

August  17,  1879  

[August,  1879]  

October  19th,  1879  

6th  February,  1880  

16th  February,  1880  

March,  1880  

April  12th,  1880   

10th  June,  1880   

13th  June,  1880   

24th  June,  1880  

[July,  1880]  

July  30th,  1880  

28th  September,  1880  

October  12th,  1880  


Where  and  when  first  Published. 


The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Nov.  4, 1872. 


Liverpool  Weekly  Albion,  Nov.  9, 1872. 

New  Year's  Address,  etc.,  1873  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Jan.  24, 1873 .... 
u  "         Jan.  29, 1873  


"  "         Jan.  31, 1873  

L'Esperance,  Geneve,  May  8, 1873  

The  Scotsman,  November  10,  1873  

November  18,  1873  

New  Year's  Address,  etc.,  1874  

The  Glasgow  Herald,  June  5,  1874  

The  Globe,  Oct.  29,  1874  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  January  1 1, 1875 ... . 

January  19,  1875.... 
Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown .... 

The  World,  June  9,  1875   

Sheffield  Daily  Telegraph,  Sept.  7, 1875  ... . 

The  Monetary  Gazette,  Nov.  13, 1875  

Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown .... 

Fraser's  Magazine,  July,  1876  

uThe  Science  of  Life"  (second  edition), 

1878  

"  u  (first  edition),  1877 

1877 

u  u  «  1877 

The  Standard,  August  28, 1877  

The  Socialist,  November,  1877  

New  Year's  Address,  etc.,  1878  

The  Times,  February  12,  1878  

44  The  Science  of  Life"  (second  edition), 

1878  

New  Shakspere  Soc.  Trans.  1878-9  


44  Bibliography  of  Dickens  "  (advt.),  1880. . . 

Report  of  Ruskin  Societv,  Manchester, 

1880  "  

The  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,  Sept.,  1879  

October,  1879  

The  Christian  Life,  December  20,  1879  

The  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,  Nov.  1879  

The  Theatre,  March,  1880  

Circular  printed  by  Mr.  R.  T.  Webling  

List  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  Writings,  March,  1880 

The  Daily  News,  June  19,  1880  

The  Glasgow  Herald,  Oct.  7,  1880  

Oct.  7,1880  

4  4  4  4         Oct.  7,1880  

Oct.  12, 1880  

Journal  of  Dramatic  Reform,  November, 

1880  

The  Glasgow  Herald,  Oct.  7, 1880  

Journal  of  Dramatic  Reform,  November, 
1880  


Page. 


316 

363 
327 
207 
268 

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OoD 

246 
247 
328 
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343 
345 
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34L 
312 
271 
312 
234 


329 
330 
332 
333 
365 
272 
329 
310rc 


:>:;:> 


354 
365 
366 


6 
325 

m  m 

373 
326 
356 
357 


370 
371 
1 

372 

368 
1 


369 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


LETTEES  OlST  POLITICS  AND  WAR 

[From  44  The  Scotsman,"  July  20,  1859.] 

THE  ITALIAN  QUESTION.1 

Berlin,  June  6,  1859. 
I  have  been  thinking  of  sending  a  few  lines  about  what  I 
have  seen  of  Austrians  and  Italians  ;  but  every  time  I  took  my 
pen  and  turned  from  my  own  work  about  clouds  and  leafage 
to  think  for  a  few  minutes  concerning  political  clouds  and 
thickets,  I  sank  into  a  state  of  amazement  which  reduced  me 
to  helpless  silence.  I  will  try  and  send  you  an  incoherent  line 
to-day  ;  for  the  smallest  endeavor  at  coherence  will  bring  me 
into  that  atmosphere  of  astonishment  again,  in  which  I  find 
no  expression. 

You  northern  Protestant  people  are  always  overrating  the 
value  of  Protestantism  as  such.  Your  poetical  clergymen 
make  sentimental  tours  in  the  Vaudois  country,  as  if  there 
were  no  worthy  people  in  the  Alps  but  the  Vaudois.  Did  the 
enlightened  Edinburgh  evangelicals  never  take  any  interest  in 
the  freedom  of  the  Swiss,  nor  hear  of  such  people  as  Winkel- 


]This  and  the  two  following  letters  deal,  it  will  be  seen,  with  <lthe 
Italian  question"  in  1859,  when  the  peace  of  Europe  was  disturbed  by 
the  combined  action  of  France  and  Sardinia  against  Austria  in  the  cause 
of  Italian  independence.  Of  these  three  letters  the  first  was  written 
two  days  after  the  defeat  of  the  Austrians  at  Magenta,  followed  by  the 
entrance  into  Milan  of  the  French,  and  the  second  a  few  days  before 
the  similar  victory  of  the  French  and  Sardinian  armies  at  Solferino. 


210 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


ried  or  Tell  ?  Not  but  that  there  is  some  chance  of  Tell  dis- 
appearing one  of  these  days  under  acutest  historical  investi- 
gation. Still  he,  or  somebody  else,  verily  got  Switzerland  rid 
of  much  evil,  and  made  it  capable  of  much  good  ;  and  if  you 
examine  the  influence  of  the  battles  of  Morgarten  and  Sempach 
on  European  history,  you  will  find  they  were  good  and  true 
pieces  of  God's  work.1  Do  people  suppose  they  were  done 
by  Protestants  ?  Switzerland  owes  all  that  she  is — all  that  she 
is  ever  likely  to  be — to  her  stout  and  stern  Koman  Catholics, 
faithful  to  their  faith  to  this  day— they,  and  the  Tyrolese, 
about  the  truest  Roman  Catholics  in  Christendom  and  cer- 
tainly among  its  worthiest  people,  though  they  laid  your 
Zuingli  and  a  good  deal  of  ranting  Protestantism  which  Zuin- 
gli  in  vain  tried  to  make  either  rational  or  charitable,  dead 
together  on  the  green  meadows  of  Cappel,  and  though  the 
Tyrolese  marksmen  at  this  moment  are  following  up  their 
rifle  practice  to  good  purpose,  and  with  good  will,  with  your 
Vaudois  hearts  for  targets. 

The  amazement  atmosphere  keeps  floating  with  its  edges 
about  me,  though  I  write  on  as  fast  as  I  can  in  hopes  of  keep- 
ing out  of  it.  You  Scotch,  and  we  English  !  !  to  keep  up  the 
miserable  hypocrisy  of  calling  ourselves  Protestants !  And 
here  have  been  two  of  the  most  powerful  protests  (sealed  with 
quite  as  much  blood  as  is  usually  needed  for  such  documents) 


1  Few  readers  need  be  reminded  of  the  position  of  Tell  in  the  list  of 
Swiss  patriots  {pace  the  Ci  acutest  historical  investigation,"  which  pats 
him  in  the  list  of  mythical  personages)  in  the  early  part  of  the  fourteenth 
century ;  of  Arnold  von  Winkelried  who  met  the  heroic  death,  by  which 
he  secured  his  country's  freedom,  at  Sempach  in  1386  ;  or  of  TJlrich 
Zuingli,  the  Swiss  Protestant  leader  of  his  time,  who  fell  at  Cappel,  in 
the  war  of  the  Reformed  against  the  Komish  Cantons,  in  1531.  At  the 
battle  of  Morgarten,  in  1315,  twenty  thousand  Austrians  were  defeated 
by  no  more  than  thirteen  hundred  Swiss,  with  such  valor  that  the  name 
of  the  victors'  canton  was  thereupon  extended  to  the  whole  country, 
thenceforth  called  Switzerland. 

It  may  be  further  noted  that  Arnold  of  Sempach  is,  with  Leonidas, 
Curtius,  and  Sir  Richard  Grenville,  named  amongst  the  types  of  "  the 
divinest  of  sacrifices,  that  of  the  patriot  for  his  country  ,j  in  Mr.  Rus- 
kin's  Preface,  Bibliothcca  Pastorum,  vol.  i.  p,  xxxiii. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


211 


that  ever  were  made  against  the  Papacy — one  in  1848, 1  and 
one  now — twenty  thousand  men  or  thereabouts  lying,  at  this 
time  being,  in  the  form  of  torn  flesh  and  shattered  bones, 
among  the  rice  marshes  of  the  Novarrese,  and  not  one  jot  of 
our  precious  Protestant  blood  gone  to  the  signature.  Not  so 
much  as  one  noble  flush  of  it,  that  I  can  see,  on  our  clay 
cheeks,  besmirched,  as  they  are,  with  sweat  and  smoke ;  but 
all  for  gold,  and  out  of  chimneys.  Of  sweat  for  bread  that 
perishes  not,  or  of  the  old  Sinai  smoke  for  honor  of  God's  law, 
and  revelation  thereof — no  drop  nor  shadow.  Not  so  much 
as  a  coroner's  inquest  on  those  dead  bodies  in  the  rice  fields 
— dead  men  who  must  have  been  murdered  by  somebody.  If 
a  drunken  man  falls  in  a  ditch,  you  will  have  your  Dogberry 
and  Verges  talk  over  him  by  way  of  doing  justice  ;  but  your 
twenty  thousand — not  drunken,  but  honest,  respectable,  well- 
meaning,  and  serviceable  men — are  made  rice  manure  of,  and 
you  think  it  is  all  right.  We  Protestants  indeed !  The  Italians 
are  Protestants,  and  in  a  measure  the  French — nay,  even  the 
Austrian s  (at  all  events  those  conical-hatted  mountaineers), 
according  to  their  understanding  of  the  matter.  What  we  are, 
Moloch  or  Mammon,  or  the  Protestant  devil  made  up  of  both, 
perhaps  knows. 

Do  not  think  I  dislike  the  Austrians.  I  have  great  respect 
and  affection  for  them,  and  I  have  seen  more  of  them  in 
familiar  intercourse  than  most  Englishmen.  One  of  my  best 
friends  in  Venice  in  the  winter  of  1849-50  was  the  Artillery 
officer  wTho  had  directed  the  fire  on  the  side  of  Mestre  in  1848. 
I  have  never  known  a  nobler  person.  Brave,  kind,  and  gay — 
as  gentle  as  a  lamb,  as  playful  as  a  kitten — knightly  in  cour- 
tesy and  in  all  tones  of  thought — ready  at  any  instant  to  lay 
jwn  his  life  for  his  country  or  his  Emperor.  He  was  by  no 
ineans  a  rare  instance  either  of  gentleness  or  of  virtue  among 
the  men  whom  the  Liberal  portion  of  our  English  press  repre- 
sent as  only  tyrants  and  barbarians.    Eadetzky  himself  was 


1  The  year  of  the  Lombard  insurrection,  when  Radetzky,  the  Austrian 
field-marshal,  defeated  the  insurgents  at  Custozza  near  Verona.  Radetzky 
died  in  1858. 


212 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAOE. 


one  of  the  kindest  of  men — his  habitual  expression  was  one  of 
overflowing  bonhommie,  or  of  fatherly  regard  for  the  welfare 
of  all  around  hirn.  All  who  knew  him  loved  him.  In  little 
things  his  kindness  was  almost  ludicrous.  I  saw  him  at  Verona 
run  out  of  his  own  supper-room  and  return  with  a  plate  of 
soup  in  his  hand,  the  waiters  (his  youngest  aides  de-camp)  not 
serving  his  lady  guests  fast  enough  to  please  him  ;  yet  they 
wrere  nimble  enough,  as  I  knew  in  a  race  with  two  of  them 
among  the  fire-flies  by  the  Mincio,  only  the  evening  before. 
For  a  long  time  I  regarded  the  Austrians  as  the  only  protec- 
tion of  Italy  from  utter  dissolution  (such  as  that  which,  I  see 
to-day,  it  is  reported  that  the  Tuscan  army  has  fallen  into,  left 
for  five  weeks  to  itself),  and  I  should  have  looked  upon  them 
as  such  still,  if  the  Sardinian  Government  had  not  shown  itself 
fit  to  take  their  place.  And  the  moment  that  any  Italian 
Government  was  able  to  take  their  place,  the  Austrians  neces- 
sarily become  an  obstacle  to  Italian  progress,  for  all  their 
virtues  are  incomprehensible  to  the  Italians,  and  useless  to 
them.  Unselfish  individually,  the  Austrians  are  nationally 
entirely  selfish,  and  in  this  consists,  so  far  as  it  is  truly  alleged 
against  them,  their  barbarism.  These  men  of  whom  I  have 
been  speaking  would  have  given,  any  of  them,  life  and  fortune 
unhesitatingly  at  their  Emperor's  bidding,  but  their  magna- 
nimity was  precisely  that  of  the  Highlander  or  the  Indian,  in- 
cognizant of  any  principle  of  action  but  that  of  devotion  to 
his  chief  or  nation.  All  abstract  grounds  of  conscience,  all 
universal  and  human  hopes,  were  inconceivable  by  them. 
Such  men  are  at  present  capable  of  no  feeling  towards  Italy 
but  scorn  ;  their  power  was  like  a  bituminous  cerecloth  wrap- 
ping her  corpse— it  saved  her  from  the  rottenness  of  revolu- 
tion ;  but  it  must  be  unwound,  if  the  time  has  come  for  her 
resurrection. 

I  do  not  know  if  that  time  has  come,  or  can  come.  Italy's 
true  oppression  is  all  her  own.  Spain  is  oppressed  by  the 
Spaniard,  not  by  the  Austrian.  Greece  needs  but  to  be  saved 
from  the  Greeks.  No  French  Emperor,  however  mighty  his 
arm  or  sound  his  faith,  can  give  Italy  freedom. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


213 


"A  gift  of  that  which  is  not  to  be  given 
By  all  the  associate  powers  of  earth  and  heaven." 

But  the  time  is  come  at  least  to  bid  her  be  free,  if  she  has  the 
power  of  freedom.  It  is  not  England,  certainly,  who  should 
forbid  her.  I  believe  that  is  what  it  will  come  to,  however — 
not  so  much  because  we  are  afraid  of  Napoleon,  as  because  we 
are  jealous  of  him.  But  of  him  and  us  I  have  something  more 
to  say  than  there  is  time  for  to-night.  These  good,  stupid, 
affectionate,  faithful  Germans,  too  (grand  fellows  under  arms  ; 
I  never  imagined  so  magnificent  a  soldiery  as  15,000  of  them 
which  I  made  a  shift  to  see,  through  sand  clouds,  march  past 
the  Prince  Frederick  William  1  on  Saturday  morning  last). 
But  to  hear  them  fretting  and  foaming  at  the  French  getting 
into  Milan  !  —  they  having  absolutely  no  other  idea  on  all  this 
complicated  business  than  that  French  are  fighting  Germans  ! 
Wrong  or  right,  why  or  wherefore,  matters  not  a  jot  to  them. 
French  are  fighting  Germans — somehow,  somewhere,  for  some 
reason — and  beer  and  Vaterland  are  in  peril  and  the  English 
in  fault,  as  wre  are  assuredly,  but  not  on  that  side,  for  I  believe 
it  to  be  quite  true  which  a  French  friend,  high  in  position, 
says  in  a  letter  this  morning — "If  the  English  had  not  sympa- 
thized with  the  Austrians  there  would  have  been  no  war."  By 
way  of  keeping  up  the  character  of  incoherence  to  which  I 
have  vowed  myself,  I  may  tell  you  that  before  that  French 
letter  came,  I  received  another  from  a  very  sagacious  Scotch 
friend  (belonging,  as  I  suppose  most  Scotch  people  do,  to  the 
class  of  persons  who  call  themselves  "religious"),  containing 
this  marvellous  enunciation  of  moral  principle,  to  be  acted 
upon  in  difficult  circumstances,  "Mind  your  own  business.'5 
It  is  a  serviceable  principle  enough  for  men  of  the  w7orld,  but 
a  surprising  one  in  the  mouth  of  a  person  who  professes  to  be 
a  Bible  obeyer.  For,  as  far  as  I  remember  the  tone  of  that 
obsolete  book,  "  our  own  "  is  precisely  the  last  business  which 


1  The  Prince  Frederick  William,  now  Emperor  of  Germany  (having 
succeeded  his  brother  Frederick  William  IV.  in  January,  1861),  was  at 
the  date  of  this  letter  Regent  of  Prussia,  and  Commander-in-Chief  of  the 
Prussian  forces. 


214 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHA CM 


it  ever  tells  us  to  mind.  It  tells  us  often  to  mind  God's  busi- 
ness, often  to  mind  other  people's  business ;  our  own,  in  any 
eager  or  earnest  way,  not  at  all.  "  What  thy  hand  findeth  to 
do."  Yes  ;  but  in  God's  fields,  not  ours.  One  can  imagine 
the  wiser  fishermen  of  the  Galilean  lake  objecting  to  Peter  and 
Andrew  that  they  were  not  minding  their  business,  much  more 
the  commercial  friends  of  Levi  speaking  with  gentle  pity  of 
him  about  the  receipt  of  Custom.  "A  bad  man  of  business 
always — see  what  has  come  of  it — quite  mad  at  last." 

And  my  astonishing  friend  went  on  to  say  that  this  was  to 
be  our  principle  of  action  "  where  the  path  was  not  quite  clear" 
— as  if  any  path  ever  was  clear  till  you  got  to  the  end  of  it,  or 
saw  it  a  long  way  off ;  as  if  all  human  possibility  of  path  was 
not  among  clouds  and  brambles — often  cold,  always  thorny — 
misty  wTith  roses  occasionally,  or  dim  with  dew,  often  also  with 
shadow  of  Death — misty,  more  particularly  in  England  just 
now,  with  shadow  of  that  commercially  and  otherwise  valuable 
smoke  before  spoken  of. 

However,  if  the  path  is  not  to  be  seen,  it  may  be  felt,  or  at 
least  tumbled  off,  without  any  particular  difficulty.  This  latter 
course  of  proceedimg  is  our  probablest,  of  course. — But  I  can't 
write  any  more  to-night.  I  am,  etc., 

J.  RlJSKIN. 

Note  to  p.  213.— The  lines  quoted  are  from  Wordsworth's  "  Poems  dedi- 
cated to  National  Independence  and  Liberty,"  Part  II.,  Sonnet  i.  The 
second  line  should  read,  "By  all  the  blended  powers  of  earth  and 
heaven. 5> 

[From  "The  Scotsman,"  July  23,  1859.1 

THE  ITALIAN  QUESTION. 

Berlin,  June  15. 
You  would  have  had  this  second  letter  sooner,  had  I  not 
lest  myself,  after  despatching  the  first,  in  farther  consideration 
of  the  theory  of  Non-intervention,  or  minding  one's  own  busi- 
ness. What,  in  logical  terms,  is  the  theory  ?  If  one  sees  a 
costermonger  wringing  his  donkey's  tail,  is  it  proper  to  "  inter- 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


215 


vene"?  and  if  one  sees  an  Emperor  or  a  System  wringing  a 
nation's  neck,  is  it  improper  to  intervene  ?  Or  is  the  Interven- 
tion allowable  only  in  the  case  of  hides,  not  of  soula  ?  for  even 
so,  I  think  you  might  find  among  modern  Italians  many  quite 
as  deserving  of  intervention  as  a  donkey.  Or  is  interference 
allowable  when  one  person  does  one  wrong  to  another  person, 
but  when  two  persons  do  two  wrongs  to  two,  or  three  to 
three,  or  a  multitude  to  a  multitude  ;  and  is  there  any  alge- 
braic work  on  these  square  and  cube  roots  of  morality  where- 
in I  may  find  how  many  coadjutors  or  commissions  any  given 
crooked  requires  to  make  it  straight  ?  Or  is  it  a  geographical 
question  ;  and  may  one  advisably  interfere  at  Berwick  but  not 
at  Haddington  ?  Or  is  there  any  graduated  scale  of  interven- 
tion, practicable  according  to  the  longitude  ?  I  see  my  way 
less  clearly,  because  the  illustrations  of  the  theory  of  Non- 
Intervention  are  as  obscure  as  its  statement.  The  French  are 
at  present  happy  and  prosperous  ;  content  with  their  ruler 
and  themselves  ;  their  trade  increasing,  and  their  science  and 
art  advancing  ;  their  feelings  towards  other  nations  becoming 
every  day  more  just.  Under  which  circumstances  we  English 
non-interventionalists  consider  it  our  duty  to  use  every  means 
in  our  power  of  making  the  ruler  suspected  by  the  nation,  and 
the  nation  unmanageable  by  the  ruler.  We  call  both  all 
manner  of  names  :  exhaust  every  term  of  impertinence  and 
every  method  of  disturbance  ;  and  do  our  best,  in  indirect 
and  underhand  ways,  to  bring  about  revolution,  assassination, 
or  any  other  close  of  the  existing  system  likely  to  be  satis- 
factory to  Eoyals  1  in  general.  This  is  your  non-intervention 
when  a  nation  is  prosperous. 

On  the  other  hand  the  Italian  nation  is  unhappy  and  un- 
prosperous  ;  its  trade  annihilated,  its  arts  and  sciences  retro- 
grade, its  nerve  and  moral  sense  prostrated  together  ;  it  is 
capable  only  of  calling  to  you  for  help,  and  you  will  not  help 
it.  The  man  you  have  been  calling  names,  with  his  unruly 
colonels,  undertakes  to  help  it,  and  Christian  England,  with 
secret  hope  that,  in  order  to  satisfy  her  spite  against  the  un- 


1  A  misprint  for  "Rogues."   See  next  letter,  p.  219 


21G 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


ruly  colonels,  the  French  army  may  be  beaten,  and  the  Papacy 
fully  established  over  the  whole  of  Italy — Christian  England, 
I  say,  with  this  spiteful  jealousy  for  one  of  her  motives,  and 
a  dim,  stupid,  short-sighted,  sluggish  horror  of  interruption 
of  business  for  the  other,  takes,  declaratively  and  ostensibly, 
this  highly  Christian  position.  "Let  who  will  prospei  or 
perish,  die  or  live — let  what  will  be  declared  or  believed— let 
whatsoever  iniquity  be  done,  whatsoever  tyranny  be  triumph- 
ant, how  many  soever  of  faithful  or  fiery  soldiery  be  laid  in 
new  embankments  of  dead  bodies  along  those  old  embank- 
ments of  Mincio  and  Brenta  ;  yet  will  we  English,  drive  our 
looms,  cast  up  our  accounts,  and  bet  on  the  Derby,  in  peace  and 
gladness  ;  our  business  is  only  therewith  ;  for  us  there  is  no 
book  of  fate,  only  ledgers  and  betting-books  ;  for  us  there  is 
no  call  to  meddle  in  far-away  business.  See  ye  to  it.  We  wash 
our  hands  of  it  in  that  sea-foam  of  ours  ;  surely  the  English 
Channel  is  better  than  Abana  and  Pharpar,  or  than  the  silver 
basin  which  Pilate  made  use  of,  and  our  soap  is  of  the  best 
almond-cake." 

I  hear  the  Derby  w7as  great  this  year.1  I  wonder,  some- 
times, whether  anybody  has  ever  calculated,  in  England,  how 
much  taxation  the  nation  pays  aunually  for  the  maintenance 
of  that  great  national  institution.  Observe — what  I  say  of  the 
spirit  in  which  the  English  bear  themselves  at  present,  is 
founded  on  what  I  myself  have  seen  and  heard,  not  on  what 
I  read  in  journals.  I  read  them  little  at  home — here  I  hardly 
see  them.  I  have  no  doubt  that  in  the  Liberal  papers  one 
might  find  much  mouthing  about  liberty,  as  in  the  Conserva- 
tive much  about  order,  it  being  neither  liberty  nor  order  which 
is  wanted,  but  Justice.  You  may  have  Freedom  of  all  Abomi- 
nation, and  Order  of  all  Iniquity — if  you  look  for  Forms  in- 
stead of  Facts.  Look  for  the  facts  first — the  doing  of  justice 
howsoever  and  by  whatsoever  forms  or  informalities.  And 
the.  forms  will  come — shapely  enough,  and  sightly  enough, 


1  li  Magnificent  weather  and  excellent  sport  made  the  great  people's 
meeting  pass  off  with  great  eclat.""  (Annual  Register  for  1859,  p.  73.) 
The  race  was  won  by  £ir  J.  Hawley's  Musjid. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


217 


afterwards.  Yet,  perhaps,  not  till  long  afterwards.  Earnest 
as  I  am  for  the  freedom  of  Italy,  no  one  can  hope  less  from 
it,  for  many  a  year  to  come.  Even  those  Vaudois,  whom  you 
Presbyterians  admire  so  much,  have  made  as  yet  no  great 
show  of  fruit  out  of  their  religious  freedom.  I  went  up  from 
Turin  to  Torre  di  Lucerna  to  look  at  them  last  year.  I  have 
seldom  slept  in  a  dirtier  inn,  seldom  seen  peasants'  cottages 
so  ill  built,  and  never  yet  in  my  life  saw  anywhere  paths  so 
full  of  nettles.  The  faces  of  the  people  are  interesting,  and 
their  voices  sweet,  except  in  howlings  on  Sunday  evening*, 
which  they  performed  to  a  very  disquieting  extent  in  the  street 
till  about  half-past  ten,  waking  me  afterwards  between  twelve 
and  one  with  another  "  catch,"  and  a  dance  through  the  vil- 
lage of  the  liveliest  character.  Protestantism  is  apt  sometimes 
to  take  a  gayer  character  abroad  than  with  us.  Geneva  has 
an  especially  disreputable  look  on  Sunday  evenings,  and  at 
Hanover  I  see  the  shops  are  as  wide  open  on  Sunday  as  Sat- 
urday ;  here,  however,  in  Berlin,  they  shut  up  as  close  as  you 
do  at  Edinburgh.  I  think  the  thing  that  annoyed  me  most  at 
La  Tour,  however,  wras  the  intense  sectarianism  of  the  Protes- 
tant dogs.  I  can  make  friends  generally,  fast  enough,  with 
any  canine  or  feline  creature  ;  but  I  could  make  nothing  of 
those  evangelical  brutes,  and  there  was  as  much  snarling  and 
yelping  that  afternoon  before  I  got  past  the  farmhouses  to  the 
open  hill-side,  as  in  any  of  your  Free  Church  discussions.  It 
contrasted  very  painfully  with  the  behavior  of  such  Roman 
Catholic  dogs  as  I  happen  to  know — St.  Bernard's  and  others — 
who  make  it  their  business  to  entertain  strangers.  But  the  hill- 
side was  wrorth  reaching — for  though  that  Lucerna  valley  is 
one  of  the  least  interesting  I  ever  saw  in  the  Alps,  there  is  a 
craggy  ridge  on  the  north  of  it  which  commands  a  notable 
view.  In  about  an  hour  and  a  half's  walking  you  may  get  up 
to  the  top  of  a  green,  saddle-shaped  hill,  which  separates  the 
Lucerna  valley  from  that  of  Angrogna  ;  if  then,  turning  to 
the  left  (westward),  you  take  the  steepest  way  you  can  find  up 
the  hill,  another  couple  of  hours  will  bring  you  to  a  cone  of 
stones  which  the  shepherds  have  built  on  the  ridge,  and  there 
you  may  see  all  the  historical  sites  of  the  valley  of  Angrogna 


218 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


as  in  a  map — and  as  much  of  Monte  Viso  and  Piedmont  as 
clouds  will  let  you.  I  wish  I*  could  draw  you  a  map  of  Pied- 
mont as  I  saw  it  that  afternoon.  The  air  was  half  full  of  white 
cumulus  clouds,  lying  nearly  level  about  fifteen  hundred  feet 
under  the  ridge  ;  and  through  every  gap  of  them  a  piece  of 
Piedmont  with  a  city  or  two.  Turin,  twenty-eight  miles  away 
as  the  bird  flies,  shows  through  one  cloud-opening  like  a  hand- 
ful of  golden  sand  in  a  pool  of  blue  sea. 

I've  no  time  to  write  any  more  to-day,  for  I've  been  to 
Charlottenburg,  out  of  love  for  Queen  Louise.1  I  can't  see  a 
good  painting  of  her  anywhere,  and  they  show  her  tomb  by 
blue  light,  like  the  nun  scene  in  Robert  le  Liable.  A  German 
woman's  face,  if  beautiful  at  all,  is  exquisitely  beautiful ;  but 
it  depends  mainly  on  the  though tfulness  of  the  eyes,  and  the 
bright  hair.  It  rarely  depends  much  upon  the  nose,  which 
has  perhaps  a  tendency  to  be — if  anything — a  little  too  broad- 
ish  and  flattish — perhaps  one  might  even  say  in  some  cases, 
knobbish.  (The  Hartz  mountains,  I  see,  looking  at  them  from 
Brunswick,  have  similar  tendencies,  less  excusably  and  more 
decidedly.)  So  when  the  eyes  are  closed — and  for  the  soft 
hair  one  has  only  furrowed  marble — and  the  nose  to  its 
natural  disadvantages  adds  that  of  being  seen  under  blue 
light,  the  general  effect  is  disappointing. 

Frederick  the  Great's  celebrated  statue  is  at  the  least  ten 
yards  too  high  2  from  the  ground  to  be  of  any  use  ;  one  sees 


1  The  mother  of  the  present  Emperor,  whose  treatment  by  Napoleon 
L,  and  whose  own  admirable  qualities,  have  won  for  her  the  tender  and 
affectionate  memory  of  her  people.  She  died  in  1810.  Her  tomb  at 
Charlottenburg  is  the  work  of  the  German  sculptor,  Christian  Rauch. 

2  The  full  height  of  this  statue  (also  the  work  of  Rauch)  is,  inclusive 
of  the  pedestal,  somewhat  over  forty-two  feet  from  the  ground.  One  of 
the  bas-relief  tablets  which  flank  the  pedestal  represents  the  Apotheosis 
of  the  monarch.  The  visitor  to  Berlin  may  recall  August  Kiss's  bronze 
group,  representing  the  combat  of  an  Amazon  with  a  tiger,  on  the  right 
side  of  the  Old  Museum  steps  ;  and  Holbein's  portrait  of  George  Gyzen, 
a  merchant  of  London,  is  No  586  in  the  picture  galleries  of  the  Museum. 
It  is  described  by  Mr.  Ruskin  in  his  article  on  Sir  Joshua  and  Holbein 
in  the  Cornhill  Magazine  of  March,  1860,  and  also  in  Wornum's  Life  and 
Works  of  Holbein,  p.  260  (London,  1867). 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


219 


nothing  but  the  edges  of  the  cloak  he  never  wore,  the  soles  of 
his  boots,  and,  in  a  redundant  manner,  his  horse's  tail.  Under 
which  vertically  is  his  Apotheosis.  In  which  process  he  sits 
upon  the  back  of  an  eagle,  and  wittee  a  palm,  with  appearance 
of  satisfaction  to  himself,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  no  danger  of 
any  damage  to  three  stars  in  the  neighborhood. 

Kiss's  Amazon  makes  a  good  grotesque  for  the  side  of  the 
Museum  steps  ;  it  was  seen  to  disadvantage  in  London.  The 
interior  of  the  gallery  is  very  beautiful  in  many  ways ;  and 
Holbein's  portrait  of  George  Gyzen  is  worth  coming  all  the 
way  from  England  to  see  only  ten  minutes.  I  never  saw  so 
noble  a  piece  of  work  of  its  kind  in  my  life. 

Believe  me,  etc., 

J.  RlJSKIN, 


[From  "The  Scotsman,"  August  6,  1859.] 

THE  ITALIAN  QUESTION 

Schafphausen,  August  1,  1859. 
Letter  to  tlie  Editor  {of  "  Tlie  Scotsman1'.) 

Sir  :  I  have  just  received  the  number  of  the  Scotsman 
containing  my  second  letter  from  Berlin,  in  which  there  is 
rather  an  awkward  misprint  of  " royals"  for  " rogues,"  which 
must  have  puzzled  some  of  your  readers,  no  less  than  the 
general  tone  of  the  letter,  written  as  it  was  for  publication  at 
another  time,  and  as  one  of  a  series  begun  in  another  journal. 
I  am  obliged  by  the  admission  of  the  letter  into  your  col- 
umns ;  and  I  should  have  been  glad  to  continue  in  those 
columns  the  series  I  intended,  had  not  the  refusal  of  this  let- 
ter by  the  Witness  1  show^n  me  the  liability  to  misapprehen- 


1  After  a  careful  and  repeated  search  in  the  columns  of  the  Witness,  I 
am  still  unable  to  certainly  explain  these  allusions.  It  seems,  however, 
that  the  two  preceding  letters  had  been  sent  to  the  Witness,  which 
printed  the  first  and  refused  to  print  the  second.  The  Scotsman  printed 
both  under  the  titles  of  Mr.  Ruskin  on  the  Italian  Question,  and  Mr. 
Ruskin  on  Foreign  Politics,  whilst  it  distinguished  this  third  letter  by 
the  additional  heading  of  Letter  to  the  Editor.    It  may  be  conjectured, 


220 


ARBOWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


sion  under  which  I  should  be  writing.  I  had  thought  that, 
seeing  for  these  twenty  years  I  have  been  more  or  less  con- 
versant with  Italy  and  the  Italians,  a  few  familiar  letters  written 
to  a  personal  friend,  at  such  times  as  I  could  win  from  my 
own  work,  might  not  have  been  uninteresting  to  Scottish 
readers,  even  though  my  opinions  might  occasionally  differ 
sharply  from  theirs,  or  be  expressed  in  such  rough  way  as 
strong  opinions  must  be,  when  one  has  no  time  to  polish  them 
into  more  pleasing  presentability.  The  refusal  of  the  letter 
by  the  Witness  showed  me  that  this  was  not  so ;  and  as  I 
have  no  leisure  to  take  up  the  subject  methodically,  I  must 
leave  what  I  have  written  in  its  present  imperfect  form.  It  is 
indeed  not  mainly  a  question  of  time,  which  I  would  spend 
gladly,  though  to  handle  the  subject  of  the  present  state  of 
Italy  with  any  completeness  would  involve  a  total  abandon- 
ment of  other  work  for  some  weeks.  But  I  feel  too  deeply  in 
this  matter  to  allow  myself  to  think  of  it  continuously.  To 
me,  the  state  of  the  modern  political  mind,  which  hangs  the 
slaughter  of  twenty  thousand  men,  and  the  destinies  of  twenty 
myriads  of  human  souls,  on  the  trick  that  transforms  a  Minis- 
try, or  the  chances  of  an  enlarged  or  diminished  interest  in 
trade,  is  something  so  horrible  that  I  find  no  utterance  where- 
with to  characterize  it — nor  any  courage  wherewith  to  face 
the  continued  thought  of  it,  unless  I  had  clear  expectation  of 
doing  good  by  the  effort — expectation  which  the  mere  exist- 
ence of  the  fact  forbids.  I  leave  therefore  the  words  I  have 
written  to  such  work  as  they  may ;  hoping,  indeed,  nothing 
from  any  words  ;  thankful  if  a  few  people  here  and  there  un- 
stand  and  sympathize  in  the  feelings  with  which  they  were 
written  ;  and  thankful,  if  none  so  sympathize,  that  I  am  able 


therefore,  that  the  first  two  letters  were  reprinted  by  the  Scotsman  from 
another  paper,  and  that,  in  receiving  the  number  of  the  Scotsman  con- 
taining the  second,  Mr.  Ruskin  did  not  know  that  it  had  reprinted  the 
first  also.  As  to  the  "series  begun  in  another  journal,"  it  is,  I  think, 
clear  that  it  had  not  been  long  continued,  as  the  letter  dated  ' -  June  15," 
sent  to  and  refused  by  it,  is  spoken  of  as  the  "  second  letter,"  so  that 
that  dated  i(  June  6"  must  have  been  the  first,  as  this  was  unquestion- 
ably the  last  of  the  series. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


221 


at  least  to  claim  some  share  in  the  sadness,  though  not  in  the 
triumph,  of  the  words  of  Farinata — 

*'  Fu'  io  sol  cola,  dove  sofferto 
Fu  per  ciascun  di  torre  via  Fiorenza, 
Colui  eke  la  difese  a  viso  aperto."  1 

I  am,  etc.,  J.  Buskin, 

[From  "  The  Liverpool  Albion,'1  November  2,  1863.] 

THE  FOREIGN  POLICY  OF  ENGLAND.2 

Zurich,  Oct  25th,  1863. 
Sir  :  I  beg  to  acknowledge  your  favor  of  the  20th  of  Octo- 
ber. My  health  does  not  now  admit  of  my  taking  part  fre- 
quently in  public  business  ;  yet  I  should  have  held  it  a  duty  to 
accept  the  invitation  of  the  directors  of  the  Liverpool  Institute, 
but  that,  for  the  time  being,  my  temper  is  at  fault,  as  well  as 
my  health  ;  and  I  am  wholly  unable  to  go  on  with  any  of  my 
proper  work,  owing  to  the  horror  and  shame  with  which  I 
regard  the  political  position  taken,  or  rather  sunk  into,  by 
England  in  her  foreign  relations — especially  in  the  affairs  of 

1  u  But  singly  there  I  stood,  when,  by  consent 
Of  all,  Florence  had  to  the  ground  been  razed, 
The  one  who  openly  forbade  the  deed." 

Cary's  Dante— "  LTnferno,"  x.  11.  90-93. 
Farinata  degli  Uberti  was  a  noble  Florentine,  and  the  leader  of  the 
Ghibelline  faction,  when  they  obtained  a  signal  victory  over  the  Guelfi 
at  Montaperto,  near  the  river  Arbia.  Machiavelli  calls  him  "a  man  of 
exalted  soul,  and  great  military  talents"  (Hist,  of  Florence,  Bk.  ii  ). 
Subsequently,  when  it  was  proposed  that,  in  order  to  maintain  the 
ascendency  of  the  Ghibelline  faction  in  Tuscany,  Florence  should  be 
destroyed,  Farinata  alone  of  all  the  Council  opposed  the  measure,  declar- 
ing that  he  had  endured  every  hardship  with  no  other  view  than  that 
of  being  able  to  pass  his  days  in  his  own  country.  (See  Cary's  notes  to 
Canto  x.  ) 

2  This  letter  was  written  in  answer  to  a  request  that  Mr.  Ruskm  would 
come  and  preside  afc  the  distribution  of  prizes  among  the  students  in  the 
Science  and  Art  Department  of  the  Liverpool  Institute,  on  Saturday, 
Oct.  31,  1863.  It  was  subsequently  read  on  the  occasion  of  distribution, 
in  accordance  with  the  wish  expressed  towards  the  end  of  the  letter. 


222 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


Italy  and  Poland.1  What  these  matters  have  to  do  with  Art 
may  not  at  first  be  clear,  but  I  can  perhaps  make  it  so  by  a 
short  similitude.  Suppose  I  had  been  engaged  by  an  English 
gentleman  to  give  lectures  on  Art  to  his  son.  Matters  at  first 
go  smoothly,  and  I  am  diligent  in  my  definitions  of  line  and 
color,  until,  on  Sunday  morning,  at  breakfast  time,  a  ticket- 
of-leave  man  takes  a  fancy  to  murder  a  girl  in  the  road  leading 
round  the  lawn,  before  the  house-windows.  My  patron,  hear- 
ing the  screams,  puts  down  his  paper,  adjusts  his  spectacles, 
slowly  apprehends  what  is  going  on,  and  rings  the  bell  for  his 
smallest  footman.  "  John,  take  my  card  and  compliments  to 
that  gentleman  outside  the  hedge,  and  tell  him  that  his  pro- 
ceedings are  abnormal,  and,  I  may  add,  to  me  personally — 
offensive.  Had  that  road  passed  through  my  property,  I 
should  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  interfere/'  John  takes  the 
card,  and  returns  with  it ;  the  ticket-of-leave  man  finishes  his 
work  at  his  leisure  ;  but,  the  screams  ceasing  as  he  fills  the 
girl's  mouth  with  clay,  the  English  gentleman  returns  to  his 
muffins,  and  congratulates  himself  on  having  "  kept  out  of  that 
mess."  Presently  afterwards  he  sends  for  me  to  know  if  I 
shall  be  ready  to  lecture  on  Monday.  I  am  somewhat  nervous, 
and  answer — I  fear  rudely — "  Sir,  your  son  is  a  good  lad;  I 
hope  he  will  grow  to  be  a  man — but,  for  the  present,  I  cannot 
teach  him  anything.  I  should  like,  indeed,  to  teach  you 
something,  but  have  no  words  for  the  lesson."  Which  indeed 
I  have  not.  If  I  say  any  words  on  such  matters,  people  ask 
me,  "  Would  I  have  the  country  go  to  war  ?  do  I  know  how 
dreadful  a  thing  war  is  ?  "  Yes,  truly,  I  know  it.  I  like  war 
as  ill  as  most  people — so  ill,  that  I  would  not  spend  twenty 
millions  a  year  in  making  machines  for  it,  neither  my  holidays 
and  pocket  money  in  playing  at  it ;  yet  I  would  have  the 
country  go  to  war,  with  haste,  in  a  good  quarrel  ;  and,  which 
is  perhaps  eccentric  in  me,  rather  in  another's  quarrel  than 
in  her  own.    We  say  of  ourselves  complacently  that  we  will 


1  See  the  preceding  and  the  following  letter.  This  one  was,  it  will 
be  seen,  written  in  the  year  of  the  last  great  struggle  of  Poland  against 
Russia. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


223 


not  go  to  war  for  an  idea ;  but  the  phrase  interpreted  means 
only,  that  we  will  go  to  war  for  a  bale  of  goods,  but  not  for 
justice  nor  for  mercy  ;  and  I  would  ask  you  to  favor  me  so  far 
a3  to  read  this  letter  to  the  students  at  your  meeting,  and  say 
to  them  that  I  heartly  wish  them  well ;  but  for  the  present  I 
am  too  sad  to  be  of  any  service  to  them  ;  that  our  wars  in 
China  and  Japan  1  are  not  likely  to  furnish  good  subjects  for 
historical  pictures  ;  that  "  ideas  "  happen,  unfortunately,  to 
be,  in  Art,  the  principal  things,  and  that  a  country  which  will 
not  fight  for  its  ideas  is  not  likely  to  have  anything  worth 
painting. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  IlUSKIN. 

The  Secretary  of  the  Liverpool  Institute. 


[From  "The  Morning  Post,"  July  7,  1864.] 

THE  POSLTLON  OF  DENMARK. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Morning  Post.1' 

Sir  :  Will  you  allow  me,  in  fewest  words,  to  say  how  deeply 
I  concur  in  all  that  is  said  in  that  noble  letter  of  Lord  Towns- 
hend's  published  in  your  columns  this  morning — except  only 
in  its  last  sentence,  "It  is  time  to  protest."  2  Alas  !  if  protests 
were  of  any  use,  men  with  hearts  and  lips  would  have  pro- 

1  The  expedition  of  the  English  and  French  against  China  was  begun 
in  the  August  of  1860 ;  the  war  in  Japan  in  the  summer  of  1863. 

-  Lord  Townshend's  letter  was  upon  The  Circassian  Exodus,  and 
pointed  out  that  a  committee  appointed  in  1862  with  the  object  of  aiding 
the  tribes  of  the  Caucasus  against  Russia  had  failed  in  obtaining  sub- 
scriptions, whilst  that  of  1864,  for  relieving  the  sufferers  when  resist- 
ance had  become  impossible,  was  more  successful.  "  The  few  bestowed 
their  sympathy  upon  the  struggle  for  life  ;  the  many  reserved  theirs 

for  the  agonies  of  death  To  which  side,  I  would  ask,  do  reason 

and  justice  incline  ?  "  After  commenting  on  the  "tardy  consolation  for 
an  evil  which  we  have  neglected  to  avert,"  and  after  remarking  that 
"  in  the  national  point  of  view  the  case  of  Poland  is  an  exact  counter- 
part to  that  of  Circassia,"  the  letter  thus  concluded:  "Against  such  a 
state  of  things  it  is  surely  time  for  all  who  feel  as  I  do  to  protest." 


224 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


tested  enough  by  this  time.  But  they  are  of  none,  and  can 
be  of  none.  What  true  words  are  worth  any  man's  utterance, 
while  it  is  possible  for  such  debates  as  last  Monday's  to  be, 
and  two  English  gentlemen  can  stand  up  before  the  English 
Commons  to  quote  Virgil  at  each  other,  and  round  sentences, 
and  show  their  fineness  of  wrist  in  their  pretty  little  venomous 
carte  and  tierce  of  personality,  while,  even  as  they  speak,  the 
everlasting  silence  is  wrapping  the  brave  massacred  Danes  ?  1 
I  do  not  know,  never  shall  know,  how  this  is  possible.  If  a 
cannon  shot  carried  off  their  usher's  head,  nay,  carried  off  but 
his  rod's  head,  at  their  room  door,  they  would  not  round  their 
sentences,  I  fancy,  in  asking  where  the  shot  came  from  ;  but 
because  these  infinite  masses  of  advancing  slaughter  are  a  few 
hundred  miles  distant  from  them,  they  can  speak  their  stage 
speeches  out  in  content.  Mr.  Gladstone  must  go  to  places,  it 
seems,  before  he  can  feel !  Let  him  go  to  Alsen,  as  he  went 
to  Naples,2  and  quote  Virgil  to  the  Prussian  army.  The 
English  mind,  judging  by  your  leaders,  seems  divided  be- 
tween the  German-cannon  nuisance  and  the  Savoyard  street- 
organ  nuisance  ;  but  was  there  ever  hurdy-gurdy  like  this  dis- 
sonance of  eternal  talk  ?  3    The  Savoyard  at  least  grinds  his 

1  The  debate  (July  4,  1864)  was  upon  the  Danish  question  and  the 
policy  of  the  Government,  and  took  place  just  after  the  end  of  a  tem- 
porary armistice  and  the  resumption  of  hostilities  by  the  bombardment 
of  Alsen,  in  the  Dano-Prussian  war.  Alsen  was  taken  two  days  after 
the  publication  of  this  letter.  The  "two  English  gentlemen"  were  Mr. 
Disraeli  and  Mr.  Gladstone  (at  that  time  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer), 
the  latter  of  whom  had  quoted  the  lines  from  the  sixth  ^Eneid  (11.  489- 
491): 

"  At  Danaura  proceres  Agamennonigeque  phalanges 
Ut  videre  virum  fulgentiaque  arma  per  umbras 
Ingenti  tripedare  metu." 

2  In  1850,  when,  being  at  Naples,  Mr.  Gladstone  interested  himself 
deeply  in  the  cause  and  miserable  condition  of  the  political  prisoners, 
and  subsequently  addressed  two  letters  on  the  subject  to  Lord  Aberdeen 
(see  "  Letters  to  Lord  Aberdeen  on  the  prisoners  of  the  Neapolitan  Gov- 
ernment:  "  Murray,  1851). 

3  The  Morning  Post  of  July  6  contained  amongst  its  leaders  one  on 
Denmark  and  Germany,  and  another  on  London  street-organs,  the  nui- 
sance of  which  had  been  recently  brought  before  the  House  of  Commons 
by  Mr.  M.  T.  Bass  (M.P.  for  Derby). 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


225 


handle  one  way,  but  these  classical  discords  on  the  double 
pipe,  like  Mr.  Kinglake's  two  tunes — past  and  present  1 — on 
Savoy  and  Denmark,  need  stricter  police  interference,  it  seems 
to  me !  The  cession  of  Savoy  was  the  peaceful  present  of  a  few 
crags,  goats,  and  goatherds  by  one  king  to  another ;  it  was 
also  fair  pay  for  fair  work,  and,  in  the  profoundest  sense,  no 
business  of  ours.  Whereupon  Mr.  Kinglake  mewed  like  a 
moonstruck  cat  going  to  be  made  a  mummy  of  for  Bubastis. 
But  we  saw  the  noble  Circassian  nation  murdered,  and  never 
uttered  word  for  them.  We  saw  the  noble  Polish  nation  sent 
to  pine  in  ice,  and  never  struck  blow  for  them.  Now  the 
nation  of  our  future  Queen  calls  to  us  for  help  in  its  last 
agony,  and  we  round  sentences  and  turn  our  backs.  Sir,  I 
have  no  words  for  these  things,  because  I  have  no  hope.  It 
is  not  these  squeaking  puppets  who  play  before  us  whom  we 
have  to  accuse  ;  it  is  not  by  cutting  the  strings  of  them  that 
we  can  redeem  our  deadly  error. 

We  English,  as  a  nation,  know  not,  and  care  not  to  know,  a* 
single  broad  or  basic  principle  of  human  justice.  We  have 
only  our  instincts  to  guide  us.  We  will  hit  anybody  again 
who  hits  us.  We  will  take  care  of  our  own  families  and  our 
own  pockets ;  and  we  are  characterized  in  our  present  phase 
of  enlightenment  mainly  by  rage  in  speculation,  lavish  expen- 
diture on  suspicion  or  panic,  generosity  whereon  generosity  is 
useless,  anxiety  for  the  souls  of  savages,  regardlessness  of 
those  of  civilized  nations,  enthusiasm  for  liberation  of  blacks, 
apathy  to  enslavement  of  whites,  proper  horror  of  regicide, 
polite  respect  for  populicide,  sympathy  with  those  whom  we 
can  no  longer  serve,  and  reverence  for  the  dead,  whom  we 
have  ourselves  delivered  to  death. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  KUSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  July  6. 


1  Mr.  Alexander  William  Kinglake,  M.P.  for  Bridgewater.  He  spoke 
at  the  above-mentioned  debate,  and  had  also  taken  strong  interest  and 
part  in  the  cession  of  Savoy  to  France  by  Sardinia  in  1860. 


226 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  December  20,  1865.] 

THE  JAMAICA  INSURRECTION. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  Will  you  allow  me,  in  this  informal  manner,  to  express 
what  I  should  have  wished  to  express  by  signature  of  the  me- 
morial you  publish  to-day  from  Huddersfield 2  respecting  the 
Jamaica  insurrection,  and  to  thank  you  for  your  excellent  ar- 
ticle of  the  15th  December  on  the  same  subject.  I  am 
compelled  to  make  this  request,  because  I  see  my  friend  Mr. 
Thomas  Hughes  has  been  abetting  the  Kadical  movement 
against  Governor  Eyre  ;  and  as  I  employed  what  little  influ- 
ence I  have  with  the  London  workmen  to  aid  the  return  of 
Mr.  Hughes  for  Lambeth,  I  may  perhaps  be  thought  to  concur 
with  him  in  every  line  of  action  he  may  see  fit  subsequently 
to  adopt.  Permit  me,  then,  once  for  all,  through  your  widely- 
.  read  columns,  to  say  that  I  did  what  I  could  towards  the  re- 
turn both  of  Mr.  J.  S.  Mill  and  of  Mr.  Hughes, 3  not  because 
I  held  with  them  in  all  their  opinions,  or  even  in  the  main 
principle  of  their  opinions,  but  because  I  knew  they  had  a 
principle  of  opinions  ;  that  they  were  honest,  thoughtful,  and 
benevolent  men  ;  and  far  worthier  to  be  in  Parliament  (even 
though  it  might  be  in  opposition  to  many  causes  I  had  at 
heart)  than  any  other  candidates  I  knew.  They  are  my 
opponents  in  many  things,  though  I  thought  better  of  them 
both  than  that  they  would  countenance  this  fatuous  outcry 


1  The  outcry  against  Governor  Eyre  for  the  course  he  took  in  suppress- 
ing the  negro  insurrection  at  Morant  Bay,  Jamaica,  in  18G5,  is  still 
within  the  memory  of  the  general  public.  Mr.  Ruskin  attended  and 
spoke  at  the  meetings  of  the  Eyre  Defence  Fund,  to  which  Mr.  Carlyle 
(see  note  at  the  end  of  this  letter)  gave  his  warm  support.  Amongst 
those  who  most  strongly  deprecated  the  course  taken  by  Governor  Eyre 
were,  as  this  letter  implies,  Mr.  John  Stuart  Mill  (Chairman  of  the 
Jamaica  Committee)  and  Mr.  Thomas  Hughes. 

2  Signed  by  273  persons  resident  in  and  near  Huddersfield.  (Daily 
Telegraph,  December  19,  1865.) 

*  Mr.  Mill  had  been  recently  returned  for  Westminster,  and  Mr. 
Hughes  for  Lambeth. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


227 


against  Governor  Eyre.  But  in  most  directions  of  thought 
and  action  they  are  for  Liberty,  and  I  am  for  Lordship  ;  they 
are  Mob's  men  and  I  am  a  King's  man.  Yes,  sir,  I  am  one  of 
those  almost  forgotten  creatures  who  shrivel  under  your  daily 
scorn  ;  I  am  a  "  Conservative,"  and  hope  forever  to  be  a  Con- 
servative in  the  deepest  sense — a  Re-former,  not  a  De-former. 
Not  that  I  like  slavery,  or  object  to  the  emancipation  of  any 
kind  or  number  of  blacks  in  due  place  and  time.  But  I  un- 
derstand something  more  by  "  slavery  "  than  either  Mr.  J.  S. 
Mill  or  Mr.  Hughes  ;  and  believe  that  white  emancipation  not 
only  ought  to  precede,  but  must  by  law  of  all  fate  precede, 
black  emancipation.  I  much  dislike  the  slavery,  to  man,  of  an 
African  laborer,  with  a  spade  on  his  shoulder  ;  but  I  more 
dislike  the  slavery,  to  the  devil,  of  a  Calabrian  robber  with  a 
gun  on  his  shoulder.  I  dislike  the  American  serf-economy, 
which  separates,  occasionally,  man  and  wife  ;  but  I  more  dis- 
like the  English  serf-economy,  which  prevents  men  from  being 
able  to  have  wives  at  all.  I  dislike  the  slavery  which  obliges 
women  (if  it  does)  to  carry  their  children  over  frozen  rivers  ; 
but  I  more  dislike  the  slavery  which  makes  them  throw  their 
children  into  wells.  I  would  willingly  hinder  the  selling  of 
girls  on  the  Gold  Coast ;  but  primarily,  if  I  might,  would 
hinder  the  selling  of  them  in  Mayfair.  And,  finally,  while  I 
regret  the  need  that  may  exist  among  savages  in  a  distant 
island  for  their  governor  to  do  his  work  sharply  and  suddenly 
on  them,  I  far  more  regret  the  need  among  men  of  race  and 
capacity  for  the  work  of  governors  when  they  have  no  gov- 
ernor to  give  it  them.  Of  all  dishonorable  and  impious  cap- 
tivities of  this  age,  the  darkest  was  that  of  England  to  Russia, 
by  which  she  was  compelled  to  refuse  to  give  Greece  a  King- 
when  Greece  besought  one  from  her,  and  to  permit  that  there 
should  be  set  on  the  Acropolis  throne  no  Governor  Eyre,  nor 
anything  like  him,  but  such  a  shadow  of  King  as  the  black 
fates  cast  upon  a  nation  for  a  curse,  saying,  "  Woe  to  thee,  O 
land,  when  thy  king  is  a  child  !  "  1 

1  The  present  king  of  Greece  was  only  eighteen  years  of  age  when, 
after  the  protocol  of  England,  Russia,  and  France  on  the  preceding  day, 
he  accepted,  June  6,  1863,  the  crown  of  Greece. 


228 


ARROWS  OF  THE  G II ACE. 


Let  the  men  who  would  now  deserve  well  of  England 
reserve  their  impeachments,  or  turn  them  from  those  among 
us  who  have  saved  colonies  to  those  who  have  destroyed 
nations. 

I  am,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 

J.  RuSKIN.* 

Denmark  Hill,,  Dec.  19. 

(From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  October  7, 1870.) 

THE  FRANCO-PRUSSIAN  WAR, 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  My  friends  ask  me  why  I  speak  no  word  about  this 
war,  supposing — like  vain  friends  as  they  are — that  I  might 
have  some  poor  influence  of  intercession  for  filigree-work, 
French  clocks,  and  other  tender  articles  of  vertu,  felt  at  this 
moment  to  be  in  grave  danger. 

But,  in  the  first  place,  I  know  that  the  just  Fates  will 
reward  no  intercession,  either  for  human  life  or  chinaware, 
until  their  will  has  been  accomplished  upon  all  of  us.  In  the 
second,  I  know  also  that  the  German  armies  will  spare  what 
they  can,  and  think  they  ought,  without  taking  advice  of  me. 
In  the  third,  I  have  said  long  ago — no  one  listening — the  best 
I  had  to  say  on  these  matters. 

But,  after  your  notice  to-day  of  the  escape  of  M.  Edouard 
Frere,2  whose  gentle  power  I  was,  I  believe,  the  first  to  recog- 

1  It  is  of  interest  to  remark  that  Mr.  Carl yle,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Hamilton 
Hume,  Hon.  Sec.  of  the  4 'Eyre  Defence  Fund"  (published  in  the  Daily 
Telegraph  of  September  12,  1866),  expressed  himself  as  follows:  "The 
clamor  raised  against  Governor  Eyre  appears  to  me  to  be  disgraceful  to 
the  good  sense  of  England  ;  .  .  .  penalty  and  clamor  are  not  the, 
things  this  Governor  merits  from  any  of  us,  but  honor  and  thanks,  and 
wise  imitation.  .  .  .  The  whole  weight  of  my  conviction  and  good 
wishes  is  with  you."  Mr.  Carlyle  was,  with  Sir  Roderick  Murchison, 
one  of  the  two  vice-presidents  of  the  Defence  Committee.  (See  The 
History  of  the  Jamaica  Case,  by  G.  W.  Finlason :  London,  1869,  p.  369.) 

2  M.  Edouard  Frere  and  Mdile.  Rosa  Bonheur  were  allowed  to  leave 
Paris  and  pass  the  lines  of  the  Prussian  army  after  the  blockade  of  the 
French  capital  had  been  begun.    For  Mr.  Ruskin's  early  recognition  of 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


229 


nize  publicly  in  England,  it  is  possible  that  some  of  your 
readers  may  care  to  look  back  at  what  I  wrote  of  modern  war 
four  years  ago,  and  to  know  the  aspect  it  takes  to  me,  now 
that  it  has  come  to  pass. 

If  you  will  reprint  these  few  following  sentences  for  me  from 
the  "  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,"  1 1  shall  be  able  to-morrow  to  put 
what  I  would  add  to  them  briefly  enough  to  claim  little  space 
in  your  columns : 

If  you  have  to  take  away  masses  of  men  from  all  industrial 
employment — to  feed  them  by  the  labor  of  others — to  move 
them,  and  provide  them  with  destructive  machines,  varied 
daily  in  national  rivalship  of  inventive  cost  ;  if  you  have  to 
ravage  the  country  which  you  attack — to  destroy  for  a  score 
of  future  years,  its  roads,  its  woods,  its  cities,  and  its  harbors  ; 
and  if,  finally,  having  brought  masses  of  men,  counted  by 
hundreds  of  thousands,  face  to  face,  you  tear  those  masses  to 
pieces  with  jagged  shot,  and  leave  fragments  of  living  crea- 
tures, countlessly  beyond  all  help  of  surgery,  to  starve  and 
parch,  through  days  of  torture,  down  into  clots  of  clay — what 
book  of  accounts  shall  record  the  cost  of  your  work — what 
book  of  judgment  sentence  the  guilt  of  it  ? 

That,  I  say,  is  modern  war — scientific  war — chemical  and 
mechanical  war — worse  even  than  the  savage's  poisoned  arrow. 
And  yet  you  will  tell  me,  perhaps,  that  any  other  war  than 
this  is  impossible  now.  It  may  be  so  ;  the  progress  of  science 
cannot,  perhaps,  be  otherwise  registered  than  by  new  facilities 


M.  Fibre's  power,  see  the  Academy  Notes,  No.  II.  (1856),  p.  47,  where 
some  "  cottage  studies" are  spoken  of  as  "quite  unequalled  in  sincerity 
and  truth  of  conception,  though  somewhat  dimly  painted ;  " — No.  III. 
rl857),  p.  58,  where  his  pictures  are  said  to  "  unite  the  depth  of 
Wordsworth,  the  grace  of  Reynolds,  and  the  holiness  of  Angelico  ;  " — 
and  No.  IV.  (1858),  p.  33,  where  this  last  expression  of  praise  is  emphasized 
and  at  some  length  explained. 

1  See  for  the  first  two  paragraphs  of  extracts  following  pp.  170,  171 
of  the  original,  and  §§  102-3  of  the  1873  edition  of  the  Crown  of 
Wild  Olive;  for  the  third  paragraph,  pp.  116-118,  and  $  74;  and 
for  the  last  two  paragraphs,  pp.  186,  187,  and  §§  113,  114,  respectively, 
of  those  two  editions. 


230 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


of  destruction ;  and  the  brotherly  love  of  our  enlarging 
Christianity  be  only  proved  by  multiplication  of  murder. 

But  the  wonder  has  always  been  great  to  me  that  heroism 
has  never  been  supposed  consistent  with  the  practice  of  sup- 
plying people  with  food,  or  clothes,  but  only  with  that  of 
quartering  one's  self  upon  them  for  food,  and  stripping  them 
of  their  clothes.  Spoiling  of  armor  is  an  heroic  deed  in  all 
ages  ;  but  the  selling  of  clothes,  old  or  new,  has  never  taken 
any  color  of  magnanimity.  Yet  one  does  not  see  why  feeding  the 
hungry  and  clothing  the  naked  should  ever  become  base  busi- 
nesses even  when  engaged  in  on  a  large  scale.  If  one  could 
contrive  to  attach  the  notion  of  conquest  to  them  anyhow  ?  so 
that,  supposing  there  were  anywhere  an  obstinate  race,  who 
refused  to  be  comforted,  one  might  take  some  pride  in  giving 
them  compulsory  comfort,  and,  as  it  were,  "  occupying  a 
country  "  with  one's  gifts,  instead  of  one's  armies  ?  If  one 
could  only  consider  it  as  much  a  victory  to  get  a  barren  field 
sown  as  to  an  eared  field  stripped  ;  and  contend  who  should 
build  villages,  instead  of  who  should  "  carry "  them  ?  Are 
not  all  forms  of  heroism  conceivable  in  doing  these  service- 
able deeds  ?  You  doubt  who  is  strongest  ?  It  might  be  ascer- 
tained by  push  of  spade  as  well  as  push  of  sword.  Who  is 
wisest  ?  There  are  witty  things  to  be  thought  of  in  planning 
other  business  than  campaigns.  Who  is  bravest  ?  There  are 
always  the  elements  to  fight  with,  stronger  than  men  ;  and 
nearly  as  merciless. 

And,  then,  observe  farther,  this  true  power,  the  power  of 
saving,  depends  neither  on  multitude  of  men,  nor  on  extent 
of  territory.  We  are  continually  assuming  that  nations  be- 
come strong  according  to  their  numbers.  They  indeed  become 
so,  if  those  numbers  can  be  made  of  one  mind.  But  how  are 
you  sure  you  can  stay  them  in  one  mind,  and  keep  them  from 
having  north  and  south  minds  ?  Grant  them  unanimous,  how 
know  you  they  will  be  unanimous  in  right  ?  If  they  are 
unanimous  in  wrong,  the  more  they  are,  essentially  the  weaker 
they  are.  Or,  suppose  that  they  can  neither  be  of  one  mind, 
nor  of  two  minds,  but  can  only  be  of  no  mind  ?  Suppose  they 
are  a  mere  helpless  mob,  tottering  into  precipitant  catastrophe, 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


231 


like  a  wagon-load  of  stones  when  the  wheel  comes  off?  Dan- 
gerous enough  for  their  neighbors  certainly,  but  not  "power- 
ful" 

Neither  does  strength  depend  on  extent  of  territory,  any 
more  than  upon  number  of  population.  Take  up  your  masses, 
put  the  cluster  of  the  British  Isles  beside  the  mass  of  South 
America,  and  then  consider  whether  any  race  of  men  need 
consider  how  much  ground  they  stand  upon.  The  strength  is 
in  the  men,  and  in  their  unity  and  virtue,  not  in  their  stand- 
ing-room. A  little  group  of  wise  hearts  is  better  than  a  wil- 
derness full  of  fools  ;  and  only  that  nation  gains  true  territory 
which  gains  itself. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  Buskin, 

Denmark  Hill,  S.E.,  Oct,  §th. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  October  8,  1870.] 

THE  FRANCO-PRUSSIAN  WAR. 

Td  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraphy 

Sir  :  As  I  am  always  blamed  if  I  approach  my  subject  on 
any  but  its  picturesque  side,  it  is  well  for  me  that  in  to-day's 
Times  I  find  it  announced  that  at  Strasburg  the  Picture  Gal- 
lery— with  the  pictures  in  it?— the  Library— with  the  books 
in  it  ? — and  the  Theatre,  with  certainly  two  hundred  persons 
in  it,  have  been  burnt  to  the  ground  under  an  auxiliary  can- 
nonade, the  flames  at  night  being  "a  tempting  target."  It  is 
true  that  in  your  columns  I  find  the  consolatory  news  that  the 
Parisians  are  repairing  those  losses  by  casting  a  bronze  Stras- 
burg ; 1  but  if,  as  a  poor  art  professor,  I  may  venture  an 
opinion,  I  would  fain  suggest  to  them  that  if  their  own  pic- 
ture gallery,  with  the  pictures  and  bits  of  marble  in  it — Venus 

1  The  Daily  Telegraph  of  Oct.  7  contained  amongst  its  Paris  news 
that  of  the  decision  of  the  Government  of  National  Defence  to  cast  a 
statue  of  the  city  of  Strasburg  in  bronze,  in  memory  of  its  "  heroic  re- 
sistance  to  the  enemy  during  a  murderous  siege  of  fifty  days." 


232 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACE. 


of  Melos  and  the  like — and  their  own  Library — Royal,  Im- 
periale,  Nationale,  or  whatever  they  now  call  it — should  pres- 
ently become  tempting  targets  also  by  the  light  of  their  own 
flames,  the  casting  of  a  bronze  Paris,  in  even  the  most  impos- 
ing of  attitudes,  will  scarcely  redeem  their  loss,  were  it  but  to 
the  admiring  eyes  of  Paris  itself. 

There  is  yet  another  letter  in  the  Times,1  of  more  impor- 
tance than  the  one  from  Strasburg.  It  is  headed,  "  The  Diffi- 
culties of  Neutrality,"  dated  Bonn,  and  anticipates  part  of 
what  I  was  going  to  say  ;  for  the  rest,  the  lessons  of  the  war, 
as  I  read  them,  are  briefly  these. 

As  to  its  cause,  neither  the  French  nation  nor  their  Em- 
peror brought  on  war  by  any  present  will  of  their  own. 
Neither  of  them  were  capable  of  a  will  at  all— far  less  of  exe- 
cuting it.  The  nation  has  since  declared,  by  submission,  with 
acclaim,  to  a  change  of  Government  which  for  the  time  ren- 
ders all  political  treaty  with  it  practically  impossible,  that 
during  the  last  twenty  years  it  has  been  deceived  or  subdued 
into  obedience  to  a  man  for  whom  it  had  no  respect,  and  who 
had  no  hereditary  claim  to  the  throne.  What  "  will "  or  re- 
sponsibility of  action  can  be  expected  from  a  nation  which 
confesses  this  of  itself  ?  On  the  other  hand,  the  Emperor,  be 
his  motives  never  so  selfish,  could  only  have  hoped  to  save  his 
dynasty  by  compliance  with  the  passions  of  a  populace  which 
he  knew  would  overthrow  it  in  the  first  hour  of  their  mortifi- 
cation. It  is  in  these  vain  passions  and  the  falsehoods  on 
which  they  have  fed  that  we  must  look  for  the  deep  roots  of 
all  this  misery.  Since  the  days  of  the  First  Empire,  no  cot- 
tage in  France  has  been  without  its  Napoleonic  picture  and 
legend,  fostering  one  and  the  same  faith  in  the  heart  of  every 


1  This  letter  was  signed  "  W.  C.  P.,"  who,  after  stating  himself  to  be 
an  English  resident  in  Germany,  proceeded  to  lament  the  changed  po- 
sition of  England  in  the  opinion  of  foreign  nations,  and  especially  in 
that  of  the  Germans,  who  no  longer  spoke  of  her,  as  formerly,  "  with 
affectionate  admiration  or  even  envious  respect."  u  And  I  must  con- 
fess,'7 concluded  the  letter,  "  that  I  find  it  difficult  to  answer  them  ;  for 
it  seems  to  me  that  we  have  already  good  reason  to  say,  in  reference  to 
the  present  struggle,  4  All  is  lost  save  money. 1 ,1 — Times.  October  7, 1870. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


233 


peasant  boy,  that  tliere  is  no  glory  but  in  battle  ;  and  since 
the  founding  of  the  Second  Empire  no  street  of  any  city  has 
risen  into  its  foolish  magnificence  without  collateral  procla- 
mation that  there  was  no  pleasure  but  in  vice. 

Then,  secondly,  for  the  actual  question  of  the  war  :  it  is  a 
simple  and  testing  struggle  between  pure  Republicanism  on 
the  one  side,  expressed  in  the  most  exquisite,  finished,  and 
exemplary  anarchy,  yet  achieved  under — earth — and  one  of 
the  truest  Monarchies  and  schools  of  honor  and  obedience  yet 
organized  under  heaven.  And  the  secret  of  its  strength,  we 
have  to  note,  is  essentially  pacific  ;  for  all  the  wars  of  the 
Great  Friedrich  would  have  passed  away  resultless — as  great 
wars  usually  do — had  it  not  been  for  this  pregnant  fact  at 
the  end  of  them:  "All  his  artillery  horses  are  parted  into 
plough-teams,  and  given  to  those  who  otherwise  can  get  none  " 
(Carlyle,  vol.  vi.,  first  edition,  p.  350) — that  21st  book  on  the 
repair  of  Prussia  being  of  extant  literature  the  most  important 
piece  for  us  to  read  and  digest  in  these  days  of  "  raising  the 
poor  without  gifts" — never  asking  who  first  let  them  fall — and 
of  turning  workmen  out  of  dockyards,  without  any  conscious- 
ness that,  of  all  the  stores  in  the  yard,  the  men  were  exactly 
the  most  precious.  You  expressed,  Sir,  in  your  article  on  the 
loss  of  the  Captain,1  a  feeling  common,  I  suppose,  for  once,  to 
all  of  us,  that  the  principal  loss  was  not  the  iron  of  the  ship, 
but  the  five  hundred  men  in  her.  Perhaps,  had  she  been  of 
gold  instead  of  iron  plate,  public  mourning  might  have  in- 
clined itself  to  the  side  of  the  metal.  But  how  if  the  whole 
British  public  should  be  itself  at  this  instant  afloat  in  a  cap- 
tuinless  Captain,  built  of  somewhat  dirty  yet  substantial  gold, 
and  in  extremest  peril  of  turning  bottom  upwards  ?  Which 
will  be  the  end,  indeed,  unless  the  said  public  quickly  per- 
ceive that  their  hope  must  be,  not  in  docks  nor  ships,  but  in 
men.  They,  and  they  only,  are  our  guarantee  for  territory. 
Prussia  herself  seems  as  simple  as  the  rest  of  us  in  her  talk  of 


1  The  turret  ship  Captain  foundered  off  Cape  Finisterre  on  September 
7,  1870.  For  the  articles  alluded  to,  see  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  Septem- 
ber 12  and  following  days. 


234 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


(i  guarantees. "  Alsace  and  Lorraine,  if  dishonestly  come  by, 
may  be  honestly  retaken  ;  but  if  for  "  guarantee."  why  these 
only  ?  "Why  not  Burgundy  and  Anjou — Auvergne  and  the 
Limousin  ?  Let  Prance  lose  what  she  may,  if  she  can  but  find 
a  Charles  and  Roland  among  her  children,  she  will  recover  her 
empire,  though  she  had  been  beaten  back  to  the  Breche  ;  and 
if  she  find  them  not  Germany  has  all  the  guarantee  she  needs 
in  her  own  name,  and  in  her  own  right  hand. 

Let  her  look  to  it,  now,  that  her  fame  be  not  sullied.  She 
is  pressing  her  victory  too  far — dangerously  far,  as  uselessly. 
The  Nemesis  of  battle  may  indeed  be  near  her  ;  greater  glory 
she  cannot  win  by  the  taking  of  Paris,  nor  the  overrunning  of 
provinces — she  only  prolongs  suffering,  redoubles  death,  ex- 
tends loss,  incalculable  and  irremediable.  But  let  her  now 
give  unconditional  armistice,  and  offer  terms  that  France  can 
accept  with  honor,  and  she  will  bear  such  rank  among  the 
nations  as  never  yet  shone  on  Christian  history. 

For  us,  we  ought  to  help  France  now,  if  we  ever  did  any- 
thing, but  of  course  there  remains  for  us  only  neutrality — 
selling  of  coke,  and  silence  (if  we  have  grace  enough  left  to 
keep  it).  I  have  only  broken  mine  to  say  that  I  am  ashamed 
to  speak  as  being  one  of  a  nation  regardless  of  its  honor  alike 
in  trade  and  policy  ;  poor,  yet  not  careful  to  keep  even  the 
treasure  of  probity — and  rich,  without  being  able  to  afford 
itself  the  luxury  of  courage. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

Oct  7.  J-  Ruskin. 

[From  "  Fraser's  Magazine,"  July,  1876,  pp.  121-123.] 

MODERN  WARFARE 

To  the  Editor  of  u Eraser's  Magazine.'" 

Sir  :  The  article  on  modern  warfare  in  your  last  June  num- 
ber 1  contains  statements  of  so  great  importance  to  public  in- 
terests, that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  ask  you  to  spare  me  space  for 


1  Remarks  on  Modern  Warfare.  By  a  Military  Officer.  The  article 
was  signed  "P.  S.  C.  " 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


235 


a  question  or  two  respecting  it,  which  by  answering,  your 
contributor  may  make  the  facts  he  has  brought  forward  more 
valuable  for  practical  issues. 

The  statistics  1  given  in  the  second  column  of  page  695, 
on  which  P.  S.  C.  rests  his  "  incontestable  "  conclusion  that 
V  battles  are  less  sanguinary  than  they  were,"  are  incomplete 
in  this  vital  respect,  that  they  furnish  us  only  with  the  pro- 
portion, and  not  with  the  total  number,  of  combatants  slain. 
A  barricade  fight  between  a  mob  of  rioters  a  thousand  strong 
and  a  battery  of  artillery,  in  which  fifty  reformers  get  shot,  is  not 
"  less  sanguinary  "  than  a  street  quarrel  between  three  topers, 
of  whom  one  gets  knocked  on  the  head  with  a  pewter  pot : 
though  no  more  than  the  twentieth  part  of  the  forces  on  one 
side  fall  in  the  first  case,  and  a  third  of  the  total  forces  en- 
gaged, in  the  second.  Nor  could  it  be  proved  by  the  exhibi- 
tion of  these  proportions  of  loss,  that  the  substitution  of  ex- 
plosive shells,  as  offensive  weapons,  for  pewter  pots,  rendered 
wounds  less  painful,  or  war  more  humane. 

Now,  the  practical  difference  between  ancient  and  modern 
war,  as  carried  on  by  civilized  nations,  is,  broadly,  of  this  kind. 
Formerly,  the  persons  who  had  quarrelled  settled  their  differ- 
ences by  the  strength  of  their  own  arms,  at  the  head  of  their 
retainers,  with  comparatively  inexpensive  weapons  such  as  they 
could  conveniently  wield  :  weapons  which  they  had  paid  for 
out  of  their  own  pockets,  and  with  which  they  struck  only  the 
people  they  meant  to  strike  :  while,  nowadays,  persons  who 
quarrel  fight  at  a  distance,  with  mechanical  apparatus,  for  the  * 
manufacture  of  which  they  have  taxed  the  public,  and  which 
will  kill  anybody  who  happens  to  be  in  the  way  ;  gathering  at 
the  same  time,  to  put  into  the  way  of  them,  as  large  a  quan- 
tity of  senseless  and  innocent  mob  as  can  be  beguiled,  or 
compelled,  to  the  slaughter.  So  that,  in  the  words  of  your  con- 
tributor, "  Modern  armies  are  not  now  small  fractions  of  the 
population  whence  they  are  drawn  ;  they  represent — in  fact 
are — whole  nations  in  arms."  I  have  only  to  correct  this  some- 
what vague  and  rhetorical  statement  by  pointing  out  that  the 


1  See  the  tables  given  in  this  letter  (p.  236). 


236 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  CHACE. 


persons  in  arms,  led  out  for  mutual  destruction,  are  by  no 
means  "  the  whole  nation  "  on  either  side,  but  only  the  indi- 
viduals of  it  who  are  able-bodied,  honest,  and  brave,  selected 
to  be  shot,  from  among  its  invalids,  rogues,  and  cowards. 

The  deficiencies  in  your  contributor's  evidence  as  to  the 
totality  of  loss  do  not,  however,  invalidate  his  conclusion  that, 
out  of  given  numbers  engaged,  the  mitrailleuse  kills  fewer  than 
the  musket.1  It  is,  nevertheless,  a  very  startling  conclusion, 
and  one  not  to  be  accepted  without  closer  examination  of  the 
statistics  on  which  it  is  based.  I  will,  therefore,  tabulate  them 
in  a  simpler  form,  which  the  eye  can  catch  easily,  omitting 
only  one  or  two  instances  which  add  nothing  to  the  force  of 
the  evidence. 

In  the  six  under-named  battles  of  bygone  times,  there  fell, 
according  to  your  contributor's  estimate,  out  of  the  total  com- 
batants— 


At  Austerlitz   1/7 

Jena   1/6 

Waterloo..    1/5 

Marengo   1/4 

Salamanca     1/3 

Eylau   1/2! 


while  in  the  under-named  five  recent  battles  the  proportion 
of  loss  was — 

At  Koniggratz 
Gravelotte 
Solferino  .... 

Worth  

Sedan  

Now,  there  is  a  very  important  difference  in  the  character  of 
the  battles  named  in  these  two  lists.  Every  one  of  the  first 
six  was  decisive,  and  both  sides  knew  that  it  must  be  so  when 
the  engagement  began,  and  did  their  best  to  win.  But  Konig- 
gratz was  only  decisive  by  sudden  and  appalling  demonstration 
of  the  power  of  a  new  weapon.    Solferino  was  only  half  fought, 


1/15  / 
1/12   '  . 
1/11 
1/11 
1/10 


*  "  The  proportion  of  killed  and  wounded, n  wrote  P.  S.  C.  H  was  far 
greater  with  the  old-fashioned  weapons  than  it  is  at  the  present  day." 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICS  AND  WAR. 


237 


and  not  followed  up  because  the  French  Emperor  had  exhausted 
his  corps  (T elite  at  Magenta,  and  could  not  (or,  at  least,  so  it  is 
reported)  depend  on  his  troops  of  the  line.  Worth  was  an 
experiment  ;  Sedan  a  discouraged  ruin  ;  Gravelotte  was,  I 
believe,  well  contested,  but  I  do  not  know  on  what  extent  of 
the  line,  and  we  have  no  real  evidence  as  to  the  power  of 
modern  mechanics  for  death,  until  the  proportions  are  calcu- 
lated, not  from  the  numbers  engaged,  but  from  those  under 
fire  for  equal  times.  Now,  in  all  the  upper  list  of  battles, 
probably  every  man  of  both  armies  was  under  fire,  and  some  of 
the  regiments  under  fire  for  half  the  day  ;  while  in  the  lower 
list  of  battles,  only  fragments  of  the  line  were  hotly  engaged, 
and  the  dispute  on  any  point  reaching  its  intensity  would  be 
ended  in  half  an  hour. 

That  the  close  of  contest  is  so  rapid  may  indeed  be  one  of 
the  conditions  of  improvement  in  our  military  system  alleged 
by  your  correspondent  ;  and  the  statistics  he  has  brought 
forward  do  indeed  clearly  prove  one  of  two  things — either  that 
modern  weapons  do  not  kill,  or  that  modern  soldiers  do  not 
fight  as  effectually  as  in  old  times.  I  do  not  know  if  this  is 
thought  a  desirable  change  in  military  circles  ;  but  I,  as  a  poor 
civilian,  beg  to  express  my  strong  objection  to  being  taxed  six 
limes  over  what  I  used  to  be,  either  for  the  equipment  of  sol- 
diers who  rarely  fight,  or  the  manufacture  of  weapons  which 
rarely  kill.  It  may  be  perfectly  true  that  our  last  cruise  on 
the  Baltic  was  "  less  sanguinary  "  than  that  which  concluded  in 
Copenhagen.  But  we  shook  hands  with  the  Danes  after 
fighting  them,  and  the  differences  between  us  were  ended  : 
while  our  expensive  contemplation  of  the  defences  of  Cronstadt 
leaves  us  still  in  daily  dread  of  an  inspection  by  the  Kussian  oi 
those  of  Calcutta. 

It  is  true  that  the  ingenuity  of  our  inventors  is  far  from 
being  exhausted,  and  that  in  a  few  years  more  we  may  be  able 
to  destroy  a  regiment  round  a  corner  and  bombard  a  fleet  over 
the  horizon  ;  but  I  believe  the  effective  result  of  these  crowning 
scientific  successes  will  only  be  to  confirm  the  at  present  par- 
tial impression  on  the  minds  of  military  and  naval  officers,  that 
their  duty  is  rather  to  take  care  of  their  weapons  than  to  use 


238 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


them.  "England  will  expect"  of  her  generals  and  admirals 
to  maintain  a  dignified  moral  position  as  far  as  possible  out  of 
the  enemy's  sight :  and  in  a  perfectly  scientific  era  of  seaman- 
ship we  shall  see  two  adverse  fleets  affected  by  a  constant  law 
of  mutual  repulsion  at  distances  of  two  or  three  hundred 
/niles  ;  while  in  either  squadron,  an  occasional  collision  be- 
tween the  leading  ships,  or  inexplicable  foundering  of  the  last 
improved  ones,  will  make  these  prudential  manoeuvres  on  the 
whole  as  destructive  of  the  force,  and  about  ten  times  more 
costly  to  the  pocket,  of  the  nation,  than  the  ancient,  and,  per- 
haps, more  honorable  tactics  of  poorly-armed  pugnacity. 

There  is,  however,  one  point  touched  upon  in  P.  S.  C.'s 
letter,  to  me  the  most  interesting  of  all,  with  respect  to  which 
the  data  for  accurate  comparison  of  our  former  and  present 
systems  are  especially  desirable,  though  it  never  seems  to  have 
occurred  to  your  correspondent  to  collect  them — the  estimates, 
namely,  of  the  relative  destruction  of  civil  property. 

Of  wilful  destruction,  I  most  thankfully  acknowledge  the 
cessation  in  Christian  warfare  ;  and  in  the  great  change,  be- 
tween the  day  of  the  sack  of  Magdeburg  and  that  of  the  march 
into  Paris,  recognize  a  true  sign  of  the  approach  of  the  reign 
of  national  peace.  But  of  inevitable  destruction — of  loss  in- 
flicted on  the  peasant  by  the  merely  imperative  requirements 
and  operations  of  contending  armies — it  will  materially  hasten 
the  advent  of  such  peace,  if  we  ascertain  the  increasing  press- 
ure during  our  nominally  mollified  and  merciful  war.  The 
agricultural  losses  sustained  by  France  in  one  year  are  esti- 
mated by  your  correspondent  at  one  hundred  and  seventy 
millions  of  pounds.  Let  him  add  to  this  sum  the  agricultural 
loss  necessitated  in  the  same  year  throughout  Germany, 
through  the  withdrawal  of  capital  from  productive  industry, 
for  the  maintenance  of  her  armies  ;  and  of  labour  from  it  by 
their  composition  ;  and,  for  third  item,  add  the  total  cost  of 
weapons,  horses,  and  ammunition  on  both  sides  ;  and  let  him 
then  inform  us  whether  the  cost,  thus  summed,  of  a  year's 
actual  war  between  two  European  States,  is  supposed  by  mil- 
itary authorities  to  be  fairly  representative  of  that  which  the 
settlement  of  political  dispute  between  any  two  such  Powers, 


LETTERS  OF  POLITICS  AND  YiAR. 


239 


with  modern  instruments  of  battle,  will  on  an  average,  in  fut- 
ure, involve.  If  so,  I  will  only  venture  further  to  suggest 
that  the  nations  minded  thus  to  try  their  quarrel  should  at 
least  raise  the  stakes  for  their  match  before  they  make  the 
ring,  instead  of  drawing  bills  for  them  upon  futurity.  For 
that  the  money-lenders  whose  pockets  are  filled,  while  every- 
body else's  are  emptied,  by  recent  military  finance,  should  oc- 
cultly exercise  irresistible  influence,  not  only  on  the  develop- 
ment of  our — according  to  your  contributor — daily  more 
harmless  armaments,  but  also  on  the  deliberation  of  Cabinets, 
and  passions  of  the  populace,  is  inevitable  under  present  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  the  exercise  of  such  influence,  however  ad- 
vantageous to  contractors  and  projectors,  can  scarcely  be  held 
consistent  either  with  the  honor  of  a  Senate  or  the  safety  of 
a  State.  I  am,  Sir, 

Your  faithful  servant, 

J.  EUSKIN. 

P.  S. — I  wish  I  could  get  a  broad  approximate  estimate  of 
the  expenditure  in  money,  and  loss  of  men  by  France  and 
Prussia  in  the  respective  years  of  Jena  and  Sedan,  and  by 
France  and  Austria  in  the  respective  years  of  Areola  and  Sol- 
ferine. 


LETTEES  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


[From  "  The  Times,"  October  8,  1863.] 

THE  DEPBECIA TION  OF  GOLD. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Times:'' 

Sir  :  Being  out  of  the  way  of  my  letters,  I  did  not,  till 
now,  see  your  excellent  article  of  the  23d  September  on^fche 
depreciation  of  gold. 1  Will  you  allow  me,  thus  late,  a  very 
few  words  in  confirmation  of  your  statement  of  the  insufficiency 
of  the  evidence  hitherto  offered  on  that  subject? 

The  market  value  of  "  a  pound  99  depends  less  on  the  supply 
of  gold  than  on  the  extravagance  or  economy  of  the  persons 
holding  documentary  currency  (that  is  to  say,  claim  to  goods). 
Suppose,  for  instance,  that  I  hold  stock  to  the  value  of  £500  a 
year  ; — if  I  live  on  a  hundred  a  year,  and  lay  by  four  hundred, 
I  (for  the  time)  keep  down  the  prices  of  all  goods  to  the  dis- 
tributed amount  of  £400  a  year,  or,  in  other  words,  neutralize 
the  effect  on  the  market  of  400  pounds  in  gold  imported 
annually  from  Australia.  If,  instead  of  laying  by  this  sum  in 
paper,  I  choose  to  throw  it  into  bullion  (whether  gold-plate  or 
coin  does  not  matter),  I  not  only  keep  down  the  price  of  goods, 
but  raise  the  price  of  gold  as  a  commodity,  and  neutralize  800 
pounds'  worth  of  imported  gold.  But  if  I  annually  spend  my 
entire  500  (unproductively)  I  annually  raise  the  price  of  goods 
by  that  amount,  and  neutralize  a  correspondent  diminution  in 
the  supply  of  gold.  If  I  spend  my  500  productively,  that  is 
to  say,  so  as  to  produce  as  much  as,  or  more  than  I  consume, 
I  either  leave  the  market  as  I  find  it,  or  by  the  excess  of  pro- 
duction increase  the  value  of  gold. 

1  See  one  of  the  leading  articles  in  The  Times  of  Sept.  23,  1863,  upon 
the  then  panic  as  to  the  depreciation  of  gold,  excited  by  the  considerable 
fresh  discoveries  of  the  precious  metal  in  California  and  Australia. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  241 


Similarly,  whatever  I  lay  by  will,  as  it  is  ultimately  spent 
by  my  successors,  productively  or  unproductively,  in  that 
degree  (cceteris  paribus)  increase  or  lower  the  value  of  gold. 
These  agencies  of  daily  economy  have  so  much  more  power 
over  the  market  than  the  supply  from  the  mine  that  no  statis- 
tics of  which  we  are  yet  in  possession  are  (at  least  in  their 
existing  form)  sufficient  to  prove  the  dependence  of  any  given 
phenomena  of  the  market  on  the  rate  of  metallic  supply.  The 
destruction  of  property  in  the  American  war  and  our  European 
amusements  in  the  manufacture  of  monster  guns  and  steel 
"backings"  lower  the  value  of  money  far  more  surely  and 
fatally  than  an  increased  supply  of  bullion,  for  the  latter  may 
very  possibly  excite  parallel  force  of  productive  industry. 

But  the  lowered  value  of  money  is  often  (and  this  is  a  very 
curious  case  of  economical  back  current)  indicated,  not  so 
much  by  a  rise  in  the  price  of  goods,  as  by  a  fall  in  that  of 
labor.  The  household  lives  as  comfortably  as  it  did  on  a 
hundred  a  year,  but  the  master  has  to  work  half  as  hard  again 
to  get  it.  This  increase  of  toil  is  to  an  active  nation  often  a 
kind  of  play  ;  men  go  into  it  as  into  a  violent  game  ;  fathers 
of  families  die  quicker,  and  the  gates  of  orphan  asylums  are 
choked  with  applicants  ;  distress  and  crime  spread  and  fester 
through  a  thousand  silent  channels  ;  but  there  is  no  commer- 
cial or  elementary  convulsion  ;  no  chasm  opens  into  the  abyss 
through  the  London  clay  ;  no  gilded  victim  is  asked  of  the 
Guards  :  the  Stock-Exchange  falls  into  no  hysterics  ;  and  the 
old  lady  of  Threadneedle  Street  does  not  so  much  as  ask  for 
"My  fan,  Peter. "         I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  Buskin. 

Chamounix,  Oct.  2. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  October  28,  1864.] 

THE  LAW  OF  SUPPLY  AND  DEMAND. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph" 

Sir  :  In  your  valuable  article  of  to-day  on  the  strike  of  the 
colliers,  while  you  lay  down  the  true  and  just  law  1  respect- 

1  The  strike  was  amongst  the  South  Staffordshire  colliers:  the  law 
laid  down  in  the  article  that  of  free  trade. 


242 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


ing  all  such*  combinations,  you  take  your  stand,  in  the  outset, 
on  a  maxim  of  political  economy,  which,  however  trite,  stands 
yet— if  I  am  not  deceived — in  need  of  much  examination  and 
qualification.  "Labor,"  you  say,  like  every  other  vendible 
commodity,  "  depends  for  its  value  on  the  relation  of  supply 
to  demand. "  But,  Sir,  might  it  not  be  asked  by  any  simple 
and  practical  person,  who  had  heard  this  assertion  for  the  first 
time — as  I  hope  all  practical  persons  will  some  day  hear  it  for 
the  last  time — "  Yes  ;  but  what  does  demand  depend  upon, 
and  what  does  supply  depend  upon  ?  "  If,  for  instance,  all 
death-beds  came  to  resemble  that  so  forcibly  depicted  in  your 
next  following  article,  and  in  consequence,  the  demand  for 
gin  were  unlimitedly  increased  towards  the  close  of  human 
life,1  would  this  demand  necessitate,  or  indicate,  a  relative  in- 
crease in  the  u  value  "  of  gin  as  a  necessary  article  of  na- 
tional wealth,  and  liquid  foundation  of  national  prosperity  ? 
Or  might  we  not  advisably  make  some  steady  and  generally 
understood  distinction  between  the  terms  "  value "  and 
"price,"  and  determine  at  once  whether  there  be,  or  be  not, 
such  a  thing  as  intrinsic  "  value  "  or  goodness  in  some  things, 
and  as  intrinsic  un value  or  badness  in  other  things ;  and  as1 
value  extrinsic,  or  according  to  use,  in  all  things  ?  and 
whether  a  demand  for  intrinsically  good  things,  and  a  corre- 
sponding knowledge  of  their  use,  be  not  conditions  likely,  on 
the  whole,  to  tend  towards  national  wealth  ?  and  whether  a 
demand  for  intrinsically  bad  things,  and  relative  experience 
in  their  use,  be  not  conditions  likely  to  lead  to  quite  the  re- 
verse of  national  wealth,  in  exact  proportion  to  the  facility  of 
the  supply  of  the  said  bad  things  ?  I  should  be  entirely  grate- 
ful to  you,  Sir,  or  to  any  of  your  correspondents,  if  you  or  they 
wrould  answer  these  short  questions  clearly  for  me. 

I  am,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 
Denmark  Hill,  Oct.  26.  J-  Buskin.2 

1  Upon  the  then  recent  and  miserable  death  of  an  Irish  gentleman, 
who  had  been  an  habitual  hard-drinker.  • 

2  To  this  letter  an  answer  (Daily  Telegraph,  October  29)  was  attempted 
by  "  ¥ conomist,"  writing  from  "Lloyds,  Oct.  28,"  stating  that  "  Value 
in  political  economy  means  exchangeable  value,  not  intrinsic  value." 
The  rest  of  his  letter  is  given  in  Mr.  Euskin's  reply  to  it. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  243 


[From  •«  The  Daily  Telegraph,11  October  31,  1864.] 

THE  LAW  OF  SUPPLY  AND  DEMAND. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daihj  Telegraph:' 

Sir  :  I  am  grateful  to  your  correspondent  "  Economist  "  for 
trying*  his  hand  on  me,  and  will  be  a  docile  pupil ;  but  I  hope 
his  hand  is  not  quite  untried  hitherto,  for  it  would  waste  your 
space,  and  my  time,  and  your  readers'  patience,  if  he  taught 
me  what  I  had  afterwards  to  unlearn.  But  I  think  none  of 
these  will  be  wasted  if  he  answers  my  questions  clearly  ;  there 
are,  I  am  sure,  many  innocent  persons  who,  like  myself,  will 
be  glad  of  the  information. 

h  He  tells  me,  then,  in  the  outset,  "  The  intrinsic  value  of 
commodities  is  a  question  outside  political  economy." 

Is  that  an  axiom  for  all  political  economists  ?  and  may  I 
put  it  down  for  future  reference  ?  I  particularly  wish  to  be 
assured  of  this. 

2.  Assuming,  for  the  present,  that  I  may  so  set  it  down, 
and  that  exchangeable  value  is  the  only  subject  of  politico- 
economical  inquiry,  I  proceed  to  my  informant's  following 
statement : 

"  The  "  (question)  "  of  intrinsic  value  belongs  to  the  domain 
of  philosophy,  morals,  or  statecraft.  The  intrinsic  value  of  any- 
thing depends  on  its  qualities  ;  the  exchangeable  value  depends 
on  how  much  there  is  of  it,  and  how  much  people  want  it." 

(This  "  want "  of  it  never,  of  course,  in  anywise  depending 
on  its  qualities.) 

MavOavto.  Accordingly,  in  that  ancient  and  rashly-specula- 
tive adage,  "  Venture  a  sprat  to  catch  a  herring,"  it  is  only 
assumed  that  people  will  always  want  herrings  rather  than 
sprats,  and  that  there  will  always  be  fewer  of  them.  No  ref- 
erence is  involved,  according  to  economists,  to  the  relative 
sizes  of  a  sprat  and  herring. 

Farther  :  Were  a  fashionable  doctor  to  write  an  essay  on 
sprats,  and  increase  their  display  at  West-end  tables  to  that 
extent  that  unseasonable  sprats  became  worth  a  guinea  a  head, 
while  herrings  remained  at  the  old  nursery  rate  of  one  and  a 
half  for  three-halfpence,  would  my  f  recognition"  of  the  value 


244 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


of  sprats  in  paying  a  guinea  for  one  enable  me  to  cline  off  it 
better  than  I  should  off  that  mysterious  eleven-pennyworth  of 
herring?  Or  to  take  a  more  elevated  instance.  There  is  now 
on  my  room  wall  a  water-color  drawing,  which  was  once 
bought  for  £30,  and  for  which  any  dealer  would  to-morrow 
give  me  £300.  The  drawing  is  intrinsically  worth  about  one- 
tenth  of  what  it  was  when  bought  for  £30,  the  sky  having 
faded  out  of  it,  and  many  colors  having  changed  elsewhere. 
But  men's  minds  have  changed  like  the  colors,  and  Lord  A.  or 
Sir  John  B.  are  now  ready  to  give  me  £300  instead  of  £30  for  it. 

Now,  I  want  to  know  what  it  matters  to  "  Economist,"  or 
to  the  Economical  Society  he  (as  I  understand)  represents,  or 
to  the  British  nation  generally,  whether  Lord  A.  has  the  bit  of 
colored  paper  and  I  the  £300,  or  Lord  A.  the  £300  and  I  the 
bit  of  paper.  The  pounds  are  there,  and  the  paper  is  there  : 
what  does  it  nationally  matter  which  of  us  have  which  ? 

Farther :  What  does  it  nationally  matter  whether  Lord  A. 
gives  me  £30  or  £300  on  the  exchange  ?  (Mind,  I  do  not  say 
it  does  not  matter — I  only  want  "  Economist "  to  tell  me  if  it 
does,  and  how  it  does.)  In  one  case  my  lord  has  £270  more 
to  spend  ;  in  the  other  I  have.  What  does  it  signify  which  of 
us  has? 

Farther  :  To  us,  the  exchangers,  of  what  use  is  "  Econo- 
mist's "  information  that  the  rate  of  exchange  depends  on  the 
"  demand  and  supply"  of  colored  paper  and  pounds?  No 
ghost  need  come  from  the  grave  to  tell  us  that.  But  if  any 
economical  ghost  would  tell  my  lord  how  to  get  more  pounds, 
or  me  howf  to  get  more  drawings,  it  might  be  to  the  purpose. 

But  yet  farther,  passing  from  specialties  to  generals  : 

Let  the  entire  property  of  the  nation  be  enumerated  in  the 
several  articles  of  which  it  consists — a,  b,  c,  d,  etc.  ;  we  will 
say  only  three,  for  convenience  sake.    Then  all  the  national 
property  consists  of  a-\~b-\-c. 
I  ask,  first,  what  a  is  worth. 

"Economist"  answers  (suppose)  2  b. 
I  ask,  next,  what  b  is  worth. 

"Economist"  answers  (suppose)  3  e. 
I  ask;  next,  what  c  is  worth. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  245 


"  Economist "  answers —  f . 

Many  thanks.    That  is  certainly  Cocker's  view  of  it 
I  ask,  finally,  "What  is  it  all  worth  ? 

"Economist"  answers,  If  a,  or  3£  b,  or  10  c. 

Thanks  again.  But  now,  intrinsic  value  not  being  in 
"  Economist's  "  domain,  but — if  I  chance  to  be  a  philosopher 
--in  mine,  I  may  any  day  discover  any  given  intrinsic  value 
to  belong  to  any  one  of  these  articles. 

Suppose  I  find,  for  instance,  the  value  of  c  to  be  intrinsi- 
cally zero,  then  the  entire  national  property  =  10  c  =  in- 
trinsically 0. 

Shall  I  be  justified  in  this  conclusion  ? 

3.  In  relation  to  the  question  of  strikes,  the  difficulty,  you 
told  me  yourself,  Mr.  Editor  1  (and  doubtless  "  Economist  " 
will  tell  me  also),  depends  simply  on  supply  and  demand  :  that 
is  to  say,  on  an  under-supply  of  wages  and  an  over-supply  of 
laborers.  Profoundest  thanks  again  ;  but  I,  poor  blundering, 
thick-headed  collier,  feel  disposed  further  to  ask,  "  On  what 
do  this  underness  and  overness  of  supply  depend  ?  "  Have 
they  any  remote  connection  with  marriage,  or  with  improvi- 
dence, or  with  avarice,  or  with  accumulativeness,  or  any  other 
human  weaknesses  out  of  the  ken  of  political  economy  ?  And, 
whatever  they  arise  from,  how  are  they  to  be  dealt  with?  It 
appears  to  me,  poor  simple  collier,  that  the  shortest  way  of 
dealing  with  this  "  darned "  supply  of  laborers  will  be  by 
knocking  some  of  them  down,  or  otherwise  disabling  them  for 
the  present.  Why  is  this  mode  of  regulating  the  supply  inter- 
dicted to  me?  and  what  have  Economists  to  do  with  the 
morality  of  any  proceeding  whatever  ?  and,  in  the  name  of 
economy  generally,  what  else  can  I  do  ?  2 

I  am,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 

Denmark  Hill,  Oct  29.    [Monday.]  J.  Euskin. 

1  See  ante,  p.  241. 

2 "  Economist  "  does  not  seem  to  have  continued  his  argument.  A 
reply  to  this  letter  was  however  attempted  by  "  John  Plummer,"  writ- 
ing from  Kettering,  and  dealing  with  the  over-supply  of  laborers  and 
under-supply  of  wages,  and  Mr.  Ruskin's  possible  views  on  the  matter. 
Th«  next  letter  ended  the  correspondence. 


246 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


[From  "The  Daily  Telegraph,"  November  3,  1864.] 

THE  LA  W  OF  SUPPLY  AND  DEMAND. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  Having,  unfortunately,  occupation  enough  in  my  own 
business  for  all  hours  of  the  day,  I  cannot  undertake  to  reply 
to  the  general  correspondence  which  might,  in  large  supply 
to  my  limited  demand,  propose  itself  in  your  columns.  If 
my  first  respondent,  "  Economist,"  or  any  other  person 
learned  in  his  science,  will  give  me  direct  answers  to  the 
direct  questions  asked  in  my  Monday's  letter,  I  may,  with 
your  permission,  follow  the  points  at  issue  farther  ;  if  not,  I 
will  trouble  you  no  more.  Your  correspondent  of  to-day,  Mr. 
Plummer,  may  ascertain  whether  I  confuse  the  terms  "  value  n 
and  "  price  "  by  reference  to  the  bottom  of  the  second  column 
in  page  787  of  Eraser's  Magazine  for  June,  1862.  Of  my 
opinions  respecting  the  treatment  of  the  working  classes  he 
knows  nothing,  and  can  guess  nothing.1 

I  am,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 

Denmark  Hill,  Nov.  2.  J.  Ruskjn. 


[From  "The  Scotsman,"  November  10,  1873.] 

MR.  RUSKIN  AND  PROFESSOR  HODGSON. 

Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford, 
Nov.  8th,  1873. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Scotsman." 

Sir  :  In  your  impression  of  the  6th  inst  I  find  a  report  of 
a  lecture  delivered  by  Professor  Hodgson  in  the  University  of 
Edinburgh  on  the  subject  of  "  Supply  and  Demand,"  in  which 
the  Professor  speaks  of  my  "  denunciations  "  of  the  principles 
he  had  expounded.  Permit  me,  in  a  matter  respecting  which 
accuracy  is  of  more  importance  to  others  than  to  myself,  to 
correct  the  Professor's  expression.  I  have  never  "  denounced  " 
the  principles  expounded  by  the  Professor.    I  have  simply 

1  In  the  Essays  on  Political  Economy,  since  reprinted  as  Munerc 
Pulveris.  See  p.  24,  §  12  of  that  book,  where  the  passage  is  printed  in 
italics :  11  The  reader  must,  by  anticipation,  be  warned  against  confusing 
value  with  cost,  or  with  price.  Value  is  the  life-giving  power  of  any- 
thing; cost,  the  quantity  of  labor  required  to  produce  it  ;  price,  the 
quantity  of  labor  which  its  possessor  will  take  in  exchange  for  it." 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


247 


stated  that  no  such  principles  exist ;  that  no  "law  of  supply 
and  demand/'  as  expounded  by  Professor  Hodgson  and  mod- 
ern economists,  ever  did  or  can  exist. 

Professor  Hodgson,  as  reported  in  your  columns,  states  that 
"  demand  regulates  supply."  He  does  not  appear  to  entertain 
the  incomparably  more  important  economical  question, 
"  What  regulates  demand  ?  "  But  without  pressing  upon  him 
that  first  question  of  all,  I  am  content  absolutely  to  contradict 
and  to  challenge  him  before  the  University  of  Edinburgh  to 
maintain  his  statement  that  "  demand  regulates  supply,"  and 
together  with  it  (if  he  has  ventured  to  advance  it)  the  correl- 
ative proposition,  "  supply  regulates  demand." 

a.  Demand  does  not  regulate  supply. 

For  instance — there  is  at  this  moment  a  larger  demand  for 
champagne  wine  in  England  and  Scotland  than  there  was  ten 
years  ago  ;  and  a  much  more  limited  supply  of  champagne  wine. 

b.  Supply  does  not  regulate  demand. 

For  instance  I  can  name  many  districts  in  Scotland  where 
the  supply  of  pure  water  is  larger  than  in  other  namable  lo- 
calities, but  wrhere  the  inhabitants  drink  less  water  and  more 
whiskey  than  in  other  namable  localities. 

I  do  not  therefore  denounce  the  so-called  law  of  supply  and 
demand,  but  I  absolutely  deny  the  existence  of  such  law  ;  and 
I  do  in  the  very  strongest  terms  denounce  the  assertion  of  the 
existence  of  such  a  law  before  the  University  of  Edinburgh  as 
disgraceful  both  to  its  assertor  and  to  the  University,  unless 
immediate  steps  be  taken  to  define,  in  scientific  terms,  the 
limitations  under  which  such  statement  is  to  be  understood. 

I  am,  etc., 
  John  Kuskin.1 

[From  the  "  Scotsman,"  November  18,  1873.] 

MR  BUSKIN  AND  PROFESSOR  HODGSON. 

Oxford,  November  15,  1873. 

To  the  Editor  of  l<  Tlie  Scotsman." 

Sir  :  For  Professor  Hodgson's  "  undue  encroachments  on 
your  space  and  his  own  time,"  I  leave  you  to  answer  to  your 

1  To  this  letter  Professor  Hodgson  replied  by  one  printed  in  the  Scots- 
man  of  November  14. 


248 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CRACK 


readers,  and  the  Professor  to  console  his  class.  To  his  criti- 
cisms on  my  language  and  temper  I  bow,  their  defence  being- 
irrelevant  to  the  matter  in  hand.  Of  his  harmless  confusion 
of  the  word  "  correlative  "  with  the  word  "  consequent "  I  take 
no  notice ;  and  his  promise  of  a  sifting  examination  of  my 
economic  teaching  I  anticipate  with  grateful  awe. 1 

But  there  is  one  sentence  in  his  letter  of  real  significance, 
and  to  that  alone  I  reply.  The  Professor  ventured  (he  says)  to 
suggest  that  possibly  I  with  others  "  believe  that  economists 
confused  existing  demand  with  wise  and  beneficial  demand, 
and  existing  supply  with  wise  and  beneficial  supply. 

I  do  believe  this.  I  have  written  all  my  books  on  political 
economy  in  such  belief.  And  the  entire  gist  of  them  is  the 
assertion  that  a  real  law  of  relation  holds  between  the  non- 
existent wise  demand  and  the  non-existent  beneficial  supply, 
but  that  no  real  law  of  relation  holds  between  the  existent 
foolish  demand  and  the  existent  mischievous  supply. 

That  is  to  say  (to  follow  Professor  Hodgson  with  greater 
accuracy  into  his  lunar  illustrations),  if  you  ask  for  the  moon, 
it  does  not  follow  that  you  will  get  it ;  nor  is  your  satisfaction 
more  secure  if  you  ask  for  sixpence  from  a  Poor-Law  guar- 
dian ;  but  if  you  limit  your  demand  to  an  honest  penny,  and 
endeavor  to  turn  it  by  honest  work,  the  divine  law  of  supply 
will,  in  the  plurality  of  cases,  answer  that  rational  and  there- 
fore divine  demand. 

Now,  Professor  Hodgson's  statement,  as  reported  in  your 
columns,  was  that  "  demand  regulates  supply."  If  his  asser- 
tion, in  his  lecture,  was  the  qualified  one,  or  that  "  wise  demand 
regulates  beneficial  supply,"  your  reporter  is  much  to  be 
blamed,  the  Professor's  class  profoundly  to  be  congratulated, 
and  this  correspondence  is  at  an  end  ;  while  I  look  forward 
with  deepest  interest  to  the  necessary  elucidations  by  the  Pro- 
fessor of  the  nature  of  wisdom  and  benefit ;  neither  of  these 
ideas  having  been  yet  familiar  ones  in  common  economical 
treatises.  But  I  wrote  under  the  impression  that  the  Professor 

1  "  I  hereby  promise  Mr.  Ruskin  that  ere  very  many  months  are  over 
he  shall  have  in  print  a  sifting  examination  of  his  economic  teaching." 
I  do  not  find,  however,  that  Professor  Hodgson  fulfilled  his  promies. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  249 


dealt  hitherto,  as  it  has  been  the  boast  of  economists  to  deal, 
with  things  existent,  and  not  theoretical  (and  assuredly  the 
practical  men  of  this  country  expect  their  children  to  be  in- 
structed by  him  in  the  laws  which  govern  existing  things) ; 
and  it  is  therefore  only  in  the  name  of  your  practical  readers 
that  I  challenged  him,  and  to-day  repeat  my  challenge,  in 
terms  from  which  I  trust  he  will  not  again  attempt  to  escape  by 
circumambient  criticism  of  my  works,1  to  define,  in  scientific 
terms,  the  limits  under  which  his  general  statement  that 
"  supply  regulates  demand  "  is  to  be  understood.  That  is  te 
say,  whether  he,  as  Professor  of  Political  Economy,  is  about  to 
explain  the  relations  (a)  of  rational  and  satiable  demand  with 
beneficial  and  benevolently-directed  supply  ;  or  (b)  of  irrational 
and  insatiable  demand  with  mischievous  and  malevolently- 
directed  supply  ;  or  (c)  of  a  demand  of  which  he  cannot  ex- 
plain the  character  with  a  supply  of  which  he  cannot  predict 
the  consequence  ? 

I  am,  etc., 

J.  RUSKIN. 

[From  4 4  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  April  18,  1865.] 

STRIKES  v.  ARBITRATION 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette." 

Sir:  I  read  your  Gazette  so  attentively  that  I  am  always 
falling  into  arrears,  and  have  only  to-day  arrived  at  your  last 
week's  articles  on  strikes,  arbitration,  etc.,  which  afford  me  the 
greatest  satisfaction,  but  nevertheless  embarrass  me  somewhat. 
Will  you  permit  me  to  ask  for  a  word  or  two  of  further  eluci- 
dation ? 

I  am  an  entirely  selfish  person,  and  having  the  means  of 
indulging  myself  (in  moderation),  should,  I  believe,  have  led  a 
comfortable  life,  had  it  not  been  for  occasional  fits  and  twinges 
of  conscience,  to  which  I  inherit  some  family  predisposition, 
and  from  which  I  suffer  great  uneasiness  in  cloudy  weather. 


1  Professor  Hodgson's  letter  had  quoted,  with  criticism,  several  pas* 
sages  from  Fors  Clavigera,  Munera  Pulveris,  and  Time  and  Tide. 


250 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  GHACB. 


Articles  like  yours  of  Wednesday,1  on  the  proper  attention  to 
one's  own  interests,  are  very  comforting  and  helpful  to  me ; 
but,  as  I  said,  there  are  yet  some  points  in  them  I  do  not 
understand. 

Of  course  it  is  right  to  arrange  all  one's  business  with  refer- 
ence to  one's  own  interest ;  but  what  will  the  practical  differ- 
ence be  ultimately  between  such  arrangement  and  the  old  anci 
simple  conscientious  one  ?  In  those  bygone  days,  I  remember, 
one  endeavored,  with  such  rough  estimate  as  could  be  quickly 
made,  to  give  one's  Eoland  for  one's  Oliver  ;  if  a  man  did  you 
a  service,  you  tried  in  return  to  do  as  much  for  him ;  if  he 
broke  your  head,  you  broke  his,  shook  hands,  and  were  both 
the  better  for  it.  Contrariwise,  on  this  modern  principle  of 
self-interest,  I  understand  very  well  that  if  a  man  does  me  a 
service,  I  am  always  to  do  the  least  I  can  in  return  for  it ;  but 
I  don't  see  how  I  am  always  to  get  more  out  of  him  than  he 
gets  out  of  me.  I  dislike  any  references  to  abstract  justice  as 
much  as  you  do,  but  I  cannot  see  my  way  to  keeping  this  in- 
justice always  in  my  own  favor ;  and  if  I  cannot,  it  seems  to 
me  the  matter  may  as  well  be  settled  at  first,  as  it  must  come 
to  be  settled  at  last,  in  that  disagreeably  just  way. 

Thus,  for  instance,  in  producing  a  piece  of  iron  for  the  mar- 
ket, one  man  digs  it,  another  smelts  it,  another  puddles  it,  and 
I  sell  it.  We  get  so  much  between  us  four ;  and  I  suppose 
your  conscientious  people  would  say  that  the  division  of  the 
pay  should  have  some  reference  to  the  hardness  of  the  work, 
and  the  time  spent  in  it.  It  is  true  that  by  encouraging  the 
diggers  and  puddlers  to  spend  all  they  get  in  drink,  and  by 


1  The  articles  alluded  to  were,  one  upon  "Strikes  and  Arbitration 
Courts,''  in  the  Gazette  of  Wednesday,  the  12th,  and  one  on  "The  Times 
on  Trade  Arbitration,"  in  the  Gazette  of  Thursday,  the  loth.  The  former 
dealt  with  the  proposal  to  decide  questions  raised  by  strikes  by  reference 
to  courts  of  arbitration.  Amongst  the  sentences  contained  in  it,  and 
alluded  to  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  were  the  following:  44  Phrases  about  the 
4  principles  of  right  and  justice '  are  always  suspicious  and  generally  fal- 
lacious." 44  The  rate  of  wages  is  determined  exclusively  by  self-interest. " 
44  There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  k  f  air }  rate  of  wages  or  a  'just*  rate  of 
wages." 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


251 


turning  them  off  as  soon  as  I  hear  they  are  laying  by  money, 
it  may  yet  be  possible  to  get  them  for  some  time  to  take  less 
than  I  suppose  they  should  have  ;  but  I  cannot  hide  from  my- 
self that  the  men  are  beginning  to  understand  the  game  a  little 
themselves ;  and  if  they  should,  with  the  help  of  those  con- 
founded— (I  beg  pardon  !  I  forgot  that  one  does  not  print  such 
expressions  in  Pall  Mall) — education-mongers,  learn  to  be  men, 
and  to  look  after  their  own  business  as  I  do  mine,  what  am  I 
to  do  ?  Even  at  present  I  don't  feel  easy  in  telling  them  that 
I  ought  to  have  more  money  than  they  because  I  know  better 
how  to  spend  it,  for  even  this  involves  a  distant  reference  to 
notions  of  propriety  and  principle  which  I  would  gladly 
avoid.  Will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  is  best  to  be  done  (or 
said)  ? 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obliged  servant, 

John  Buskin. 

Easter  Monday,  1865. 


[From  the  »  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  April  21,  1865.] 

WORK  AND  WAGES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette.1' 

Sir :  I  am  not  usually  unready  for  controversy,  but  I  dis- 
like it  in  spring,  as  I  do  the  east  wind  (pace  Mr.  Kingsley), 
and  I  both  regret  having  given  occasion  to  the  only  dull  leader 
which  has  yet 1  appeared  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  and  the 
necessity  I  am  involved  in  of  dissecting  the  same,  instead  of  a 
violet,  on  which  I  was  about  this  morning  to  begin  operations. 

But  I  see,  Sir,  that  you  mean  fairly,  and  that  you  have 
careful  thinkers  and  writers  on  your  staff.  And  I  will  accept 
your  battle,  if  you  will  fight  with  short  swords,  which  is  clearly 
your  interest,  for  such  another  article  would  sink  the  Gazette  ; 

1  The  Gazette  was  at  this  time  of  little  more  than  eight  weeks'  standing. 
The  dull  leader  was  that  in  the  Gazette  of  April  19,  entitled  "  Masters 
and  Men,"  and  dealt  entirely  with  Mr.  Ruskins  letter  on  strikes.  The 
lipace  Mr.  Kingsley"  alludes,  of  course,  to  his  Ode  to  the  North-East 
Wind. 


252 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


and  mine,  for  I  have  no  time  to  answer  speculations  on  what 
you  writers  suppose  my  opinions  may  be,  "if  we  understand* 
them. 

You  shall  understand  them  utterly,  as  I  already  understand 
yours.  I  will  not  call  yours  "  fallacies  "  a  priori  ;  you  shall 
not  call  mine  so.  I  will  not  tell  you  of  your  "  unconscious  " 
meanings ;  you  shall  not  tell  me  of  mine.1  But  I  will  ask  you 
the  plainest  questions,  and  make  to  you  the  plainest  answers 
my  English  will  admit  of,  on  one  point  at  a  time  only,  expect- 
ing you  also  to  ask  or  answ7er  as  briefly,  without  divergence 
or  deprecation.  And  twenty  lines  will  always  contain  all  I 
would  say,  at  any  intervals  of  time  you  choose. 

For  example  :  I  said  I  must  "dissect  "  your  leader,  mean- 
ing that  I  should  have  to  take  a  piece  of  it,  as  I  would  of  my 
flower,  and  deal  with  that  first ;  then  writh  its  sequences. 

I  take  this  sentence  then  :  "  He  (Mr.  E.)  seems  to  think 
that  apart  from  the  question  of  the  powers  of  the  parties, 
there  is  some  such  thing  as  a  just  rate  of  wages.  He  seems 
to  be  under  the  impression  that  the  wages  ought  to  be  pro- 
portioned, not  to  the  supply  and  demand  of  labor  and  capital, 
but  '  to  the  hardship  of  the  work  and  the  time  spent  in  it.'" 

Yes,  Sir,  I  am  decisively  under  that  impression — as  deci- 
sively as  ever  Greek  coin  wras  under  its  impression.  You  will 
beat  me  out  of  all  shape,  if  you  can  beat  me  out  of  this.  Will 
you  join  issue  on  it,  and  are  these  following  statements  clear 
enough  for  you,  either  to  accept  or  deny,  in  as  positive 
terms  ? — 

I.  A  man  should  in  justice  be  paid  for  two  hours'  wrork 
twice  as  much  as  for  one  hour's  work,  and  for  n  hours'  work  n 
times  as  much,  if  the  effort  be  similar  and  continuous. 

H.  A  man  should  in  justice  be  paid  for  difficult  or  danger- 
ous work  proportionately  more  than  for  easy  and  safe  work, 
supposing  the  other  conditions  of  the  wrork  similar. 


1  The  leader  had  begun  by  speaking  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  previous  letter 
as  f*  embodying  fallacies,  pernicious  in  the  highest  degree,"  and  con- 
cluded by  remarking  how  "  easily  and  unconsciously  he  glided  into  the 
true  result  cf  his  principles." 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  253 


III.  (And  now  look  out,  for  this  proposition  involves  the 
ultimate  principle  of  all  just  wages.)  If  a  man  does  a  given 
quantity  of  work  for  me,  I  am  bound  in  justice  to  do,  or  pro- 
cure to  be  done,  a  precisely  equal  quantity  of  work  for  him  j 
and  just  trade  in  labor  is  the  exchange  of  equivalent  quanti- 
ties of  labor  of  different  kinds. 

If  you  pause  at  this  word  "  equivalent,"  you  shall  have 
definition  of  it  in  my  next  letter.  I  am  sure  you  will  in  fair- 
ness insert  this  challenge,  whether  you  accept  it  or  decline. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obliged  servant, 

John  Ruskin.1 

Denmark  Hill,  Thursday,  April  20. 


iFrom  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  April  25,  1865.] 

WORK  AND  WAGES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  TJie  Pall  Mall  Gazette:' 

Sir  :  I  accept  your  terms,  and  reply  in  the  fewest  words  I 
can. 

L  You  "  see  no  injustice  in  hiring  a  fly  for  2s.  6d.  for  the 
first  hour  and  Is.  6d.  for  each  succeeding  one."  Nor  I  either  ; 
so  far  from  it,  that  I  never  give  a  cabman  less  than  a  shilling  ; 
which  I  doubt  not  is  your  practice  also,  and  a  very  proper  one. 
The  cabmen  make  no  objection,  and  you  could  not  have  given 
a  neater  instance  of  the  proportion  of  payment  to  labor  which 
you  deny.  "You  pay  in  the  first  hour  for  the  various  trouble 
involved  in  taking  the  man  off  his  stand,  and  for  a  proportion 
of  the  time  during  which  he  has  waited  for  the  chance  of  your 
custom.  That  paid,  you  hire  him  by  the  formula  which  I 
state,  and  you  deny. 

II.  "  Danger  and  difficulty  have  attractions  for  some  men." 
They  have,  and  if,  under  the  influence  of  those  attractions, 
they  choose  to  make  you  a  present  of  their  labor,  for  love  (in 


1  In  reply,  the  Gazette  denied  "  each  of  the  three  propositions  to  be 
true,"  on  grounds  shown  in  the  quotations  given  in  the  following  letter. 


254 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


your  own  terms,1  "as  you  give  a  penny  to  a  beggar"),  you 
may  accept  the  gift  as  the  beggar  does,  without  question  of 
justice.  But  if  they  do  not  choose  to  give  it  you,  they  have  a 
right  to  higher  payment.  My  guide  may  perhaps,  for  love, 
play  at  climbing  Mont  Blanc  with  me  ;  if  he  will  not,  he  has 
a  right  to  be  paid  more  than  for  climbing  the  Breven. 

ITT.  "  Mr.  Kuskin  can  define  justice,  or  any  other  word,  as 
he  chooses." 

It  is  a  gracious  permission  ;  but  suppose  justice  be  some- 
thing more  than  a  word  !  "When  you  derived  it  from  jttssum  2 
(falsely,  for  it  is  not  derived  from  jussum,  but  from  the  root 
of  jungo),  you  forgot,  or  ignored,  that  the  Saxons  had  also  a 
word  for  it,  by  which  the  English  workman  still  pleads  for 
it ;  that  the  Greeks  had  a  word  for  it,  by  which  Plato  and  St. 
Paul  reasoned  of  it ;  and  that  the  Powers  of  Heaven  have,  pre- 
sumably, an  idea  of  it  with  which  it  may  be  well  for  "  our  in- 
terests 99  that  your  definition,  as  well  as  mine,  should  ultimately 
correspond,  since  their  "  definitions  -  are  commonly  not  by  a 
word  but  a  blow. 

But  accepting  for  the  nonce  your  own  conception  of  it  as 
"the  fulfilment  of  a  compulsory  agreement"  ("the  wages" 
you  say  "which  you  force  the  men  to  take,  and  they  can  force 
you  to  pay  "),  allow  me  to  ask  your  definition  of  force,  or  com- 
pulsion. As  thus :  (Case  1.)  I  agree  with  my  friend  that  we 
will  pay  a  visit  to  Mr.  A.  at  two  in  the  morning,  My  friend 
agrees  with  me  that  he  will  hold  a  pistol  to  Mr.  A.'s  head. 
Under  those  circumstances,  I  agree  with  Mr.  A.  that  I  shall 
remove  his  plate  without  expression  of  objection  on  his  part- 
is this  agreement,  in  your  sense,  "jussum?"  (Case  2.)  Mr. 
B.  goes  half  through  the  ice  into  the  canal  on  a  frosty  morn- 
ing. I,  on  the  shore,  agree  with  Mr.  B.  that  I  shall  have  a 
hundred  pounds  for  throwing  him  a  rope.  Is  this  agreement 
validly  "jussum  ?  " 

The  first  of  these  cases  expresses  in  small  compass  the  gen- 

1  These  "  terms"  were  simply  that  the  Gazette  should  have  the  right 
of  determining  how  much  of  the  proposed  controversy  was  worth  its 
space. 

2  In  the  article  of  April  12. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


255 


eral  nature  of  arrangements  tinder  compulsory  circumstances 
over  which  one  of  the  parties  has  entire  control.  The  second, 
that  of  arrangements  made  under  circumstances  accidentally 
compulsory,  when  the  capital  is  in  one  party's  hands  exclu- 
sively. For  you  will  observe  Mr.  B.  has  no  right  whatever  to 
the  use  of  my  rope  :  and  that  capital  (though  it  w7ould  proba- 
bly have  been  only  the  final  result  of  my  operations  with  re- 
spect to  Mr.  A.)  makes  me  completely  master  of  the  situation 
with  reference  to  Mr.  B. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obliged  servant, 

John  Kuskin.1 

Denmark  Hill,  Saturday,  April  22,  1865. 


[From  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  May  2,  1865.] 

WORK  AND  WAGES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette:' 

Sir  :  I  have  not  hastened  my  reply  to  your  last  letter,  think- 
ing that  your  space  at  present  would  be  otherwise  occupied  ; 
having  also  my  own  thoughts  busied  in  various  directions, 
such  as  you  may  fancy ;  yet  busied  chiefly  in  a  sad  wonder, 
which  perhaps  you  would  not  fancy.  I  mourn  for  Mr.  Lin- 
coln,2 as  man  should  mourn  the  fate  of  man,  when  it  is  sud- 
den and  supreme.  I  hate  regicide  as  I  do  populicide — deeply, 
if  frenzied ;  more  deeply,  if  deliberate.  But  my  wonder  is 
in  remembering  the  tone  of  the  English  people  and  press  re- 
specting this  man  during  his  life  ;  and  in  comparing  it  with 
their  sayings  of  him  in  his  death.  They  caricatured  and  re- 
viled him  when  his  cause  was  poised  in  deadly  balance — wThen 
their  praise  would  have  been  grateful  to  him,  and  their  help 

1  For  the  Gazette's  reply  to  this,  see  the  notes  to  the  following  letter. 

2  President  Lincoln  was  shot  while  in  his  private  box  at  Ford's  Thea- 
tre, Washington,  on  the  night  of  April  14,  1865,  and  died  early  the 
next  morning.  His  assassin,  J.  Wilkes  Booth,  was  pursued  to  Caroline 
County,  Virginia,  where  he  was  fired  on  by  the  soldiery  and  killed.  A 
letter  was  found  upon  him  ascribing  his  conduct  to  his  devotion  to  the 
Southern  States. 


256 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACB. 


priceless.  They  now  declare  his  cause  to  have  been  just^ 
when  it  needs  no  aid  ;  and  his  purposes  to  have  been  noble, 
when  all  human  thoughts  of  them  have  become  vanity,  and 
will  never  so  much  as  mix  their  murmurs  in  his  ears  with  the 
sentence  of  the  Tribunal  which  has  summoned  him  to  receive 
a  j uster  praise  and  tenderer  blame  than  ours. 

I  have  twice  (I  see)  used  the  word  "  just "  inadvertently, 
forgetting  that  it  has  no  meaning,  or  may  mean  (you  tell  me) 
quite  what  we  choose  ;  and  that  so  far  as  it  has  a  meaning, 
6 4  the  important  question  is  not  whether  the  action  is  just." 
Indeed  when  I  read  this  curious  sentence  in  your  reply  on 
Tuesday  last,  "  Justice,  as  we  use  it,  implies  merely  the  con- 
formity of  an  action  to  any  rules  whatever,  good  or  bad,"  I 
had  nearly  closed  the  discussion  by  telling  you  that  there  re- 
mained no  ground  on  which  we  could  meet,  for  the  English 
workmen,  in  whose  name  I  wrote  to  you,  asked,  not  for  con- 
formity with  bad  rules,  but  enactment  of  good  ones.  But  I 
will  not  pounce  upon  these  careless  sentences,  which  you  are 
forced  to  write  in  all  haste,  and  at  all  disadvantage,  while  I 
have  the  definitions  and  results  determined  through  years  of 
quiet  labor,  lying  ready  at  my  hand.  You  never  meant  what 
you  wrote  (when  I  said  I  would  not  tell  you  of  unconscious 
meanings,  I  did  not  promise  not  to  tell  you  of  unconscious 
wants  of  meanings) ;  but  it  is  for  you  to  tell  me  what  you  mean 
by  a  bad  rule,  and  what  by  a  good  one.  Of  the  law  of  the 
Eternal  Lawgiver,  it  is  dictated  that  "  the  commandment  is 
holy,  and  just,  and  good."  Not  merely  that  it  is  a  law ;  but 
that  it  is  such  and  such  a  law.  Are  these  terms  senseless  to 
you  ?  or  do  you  understand  by  them  only  that  the  observance 
of  that  law  is  generally  conducive  to  our  interests  ?  And  if 
so,  what  are  our  interests?  Have  we  ever  an  interest  in  being 
something,  as  well  as  in  getting  something  ;  may  not  even  all 
getting  be  at  last  summed  in  being  ?  is  it  not  the  uttermost  of 
interest  to  be  just  rather  than  unjust?  Let  us  leave  catching 
at  phrases,  and  try  to  look  in  each  other's  faces  and  hearts ; 
so  define  our  thoughts  ;  then  reason  from  them.   [See  below.  J: 


1  The  bracketed  [sic]  interpolations  are  the  remarks  of  the  Gazette. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  257 


Yet,  lest  you  say  I  evade  you  in  generalities,  here  is  present 
answer  point  by  point. 

I.  "  The  fare  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  labor  in  preparing 
the  fly  for  being  hired." — Nor,  of  course,  the  price  of  any 
article  with  the  labor  expended  in  preparing  it  for  being  sold  ? 
This  will  be  a  useful  note  to  the  next  edition  of  "Bicardo." 
[The  price  depends  on  the  relative  forces  of  the  buyer  and 
the  seller.  The  price  asked  by  the  seller  no  doubt  depends 
on  the  labor  expended.  The  price  given  by  the  buyer  de- 
pends on  the  degree  in  which  he  desires  to  possess  the  thing 
sold,  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  labor  laid  out  on  it.] 

The  answer  to  your  instances  1  is  that  all  just  price  involves 
an  allowance  for  average  necessary,  not  for  unnecessary,  labor. 
The  just  price  of  coals  at  Newcastle  does  not  involve  an  allow- 
ance for  their  carriage  to  Newcastle.  But  the  just  price  of  a 
cab  at  a  stand  involves  an  allowance  to  the  cabman  for  having 
stood  there.    [Why  ?  who  is  to  determine  wThat  is  necessary  ? j 

II.  "  This  admits  the  principle  of  Bargaining."  No,  Sir  ; 
it  only  admits  the  principle  of  Begging.  If  you  like  to  ask 
your  guide  to  give  you  his  legs  for  nothing,  or  your  workman 
his  arms  for  nothing,  or  your  shopkeeper  his  goods  for  noth- 
ing, and  they  consent,  for  love,  or  for  play — you  are  doubtless 
both  dignified  and  fortunate  ;  but  there  is  no  question  of 
trade  in  the  matters ;  only  of  Alms.  [We  mean  by  Alms 
money  or  goods  given  merely  from  motives  of  benevolence, 
and  without  return.  In  the  case  supposed  the  guide  goes  one 
mile  to  please  himself,  and  ten  more  for  hire,  which  satisfies 
him.  How  does  he  give  Alms  ?  He  goes  for  less  money  than 
he  otherwise  would  require,  because  lie  likes  the  job,  not  be- 
cause his  employer  likes  it.  The  Alms  are  thus  given  by  him- 
self to  himself.] 

TEL  It  is  true  that  "  every  one  can  affix  to  words  any  sense 
he  chooses."  But  if  I  pay  for  a  yard  of  broadcloth,  and  the 
shopman  cuts  me  three-quarters,  I  shall  not  put  up  with  my 

1  One  of  the  instances  given  by  the  Gazette  on  this  point  was  that  a 
iovereign  made  of  Calif ornian  gold  will  not  buy  more  wool  at  Sydney 
than  a  sovereign  made  of  Australian  gold,  although  far  more  labor  will 
have  been  expended  in  bringing  it  to  Sydney. 


258 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  AGE. 


loss  more  patiently  on  being  informed  that  Bishop  Butlei 
meant  by  justice  something  quite  different  from  what  Bentham 
meant  by  it,  or  that  to  give  for  every  yard  three-quarters,  is 
the  rule  of  that  establishment.  [If  the  word  "  yard  "  were  as 
ambiguous  as  the  word  "  justiee,"  Mr.  Buskin  ought  to  be 
much  obliged  to  the  shopman  for  defining  his  sense  of  it, 
especially  if  he  gave  you  full  notice  before  he  cut  the  cloth.] 

Further,  it  is  easy  to  ascertain  the  uses  of  words  by  the  best 
scholars — [Nothing  is  more  difficult.  To  ascertain  what  Locke 
meant  by  an  "  idea,"  op  Sir  W.  Hamilton  by  the  word  "incon- 
ceivable," is  no  easy  task.] — and  well  to  adopt  them,  because 
they  are  sure  to  be  founded  on  the  feelings  of  gentlemen. — 
[Different  gentlemen  feel  and  think  in  very  different  ways. 
Though  we  differ  from  Mr.  Buskin,  we  hope  he  will  not  deny 
this.]  Thus,  wrhen  Horace  couples  his  tenacem  propositi  with 
justum,  he  means  to  assert  that  the  tenacity  is  only  noble 
which  is  justified  by  uprightness,  and  shows  itself  by  insuffer- 
ance  of  the  jussa  "prava  jubentium."  And  although  Portia 
does  indeed  accept  your  definition  of  justice  from  the  lips  of 
Shylock,  changing  the  divine,  "  who  sweareth  to  his  own  hurt, 
and  change th  not "  into  the  somewhat  less  divine  "  who  swear- 
eth to  his  neighbor's  hurt  and  changeth  not ; "  and  though  she 
carries  out  his  and  your  conception  of  such  justice  to  the  utter- 
most, the  result  is  not,  even  in  Shylock's  view  of  it,  "  for  the 
interest  of  both  parties. " 

IV.  To  your  two  final  questions  "  exhausting  "  (by  no  means, 
my  dear  Sir,  I  assure  you)  "the  points  at  issue,"  1  I  reply  in 
both  cases,  "No."  And  to  your  plaintive  "why  should  they 
do  so  ?  "  while,  observe,  I  do  not  admit  it  to  be  a  monstrous 
requirement  of  men  that  they  should  sometimes  sacrifice 


1  The  Gazette's  criticism  on  the  previous  letter  had  concluded  thus : 

The  following  questions  exhaust  the  points  at  issue  between  Mr.  Rus- 
kin  and  ourselves: 

Is  every  man  bound  to  purchase  any  service  or  any  goods  offered  him 
at  a  "  just''  price,  he  having  the  money  V 

if  yes,  there  is  an  end  of  private  property. 

If  no,  the  purchaser  must  be  at  liberty  to  refuse  to  buy  if  it  suits  his 
interest  to  do  so.    Suppose  he  does  refuse,  and  thereupon  the  sellei 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY, 


259 


their  own  interests,  I  would  for  the  present  merely  answer 
that  I  have  never  found  my  own  interests  seriously  compro- 
mised by  my  practice,  which  is,  when  I  cannot  get  the  fair 
price  of  a  thing,  not  to  sell  it,  and  when  I  cannot  give  the 
fair  price  of  a  thing,  not  to  buy  it.  The  other  day,  a  dealer 
in  want  of  money  offered  me  a  series  of  Hartz  minerals  for 
two-thirds  of  their  value.  I  knew  their  value,  but  did  not 
care  to  spend  the  entire  sum  which  would  have  covered  it. 
I  therefore  chose  forty  specimens  out  of  the  seventy,  and  gave 
the  dealer  what  he  asked  for  the  whole. 

In  the  example  you  give,  it  is  not  the  interest  of  the  guide 
to  take  his  fifty  francs  rather  than  nothing  ;  because  all  future 
travellers,  though  they  could  afford  the  hundred,  would  then 
say,  "  You  went  for  fifty  ;  we  will  give  you  no  more."  [Does 
a  man  say  to  a  broker,  "  You  sold  stock  yesterday  at  90  ;  I 
wTill  pay  no  more  to-day  "  ?]  And  for  me,  if  I  am  not  able  to 
pay  my  hundred  francs,  I  either  forego  Mont  Blanc,  or  climb 
alone  ;  and  keep  my  fifty  francs  to  pay  at  another  time,  for  a 
less  service,  some  man  who  also  would  have  got  nothing 


offers  to  lower  his  price,  it  being  his  interest  to  do  so,  is  the  purchaser 
at  liberty  to  accept  that  offer  ? 

If  yes,  the  whole  principle  of  bargaining  is  admitted,  and  the  "  jus- 
tice "  of  the  price  becomes  immaterial. 

If  no,  each  party  of  the  supposition  is  compelled  by  justice  to  sacri- 
fice their  interest.    Why  should  they  do  so  ? 

The  following  is  an  example:  The  4 '  just"  price  of  a  guide  up  Mont 
Blanc  is  (suppose)  100  francs.  I  have  only  50  francs  to  spare.  May  I 
without  injustice  offer  the  50  francs  to  a  guide,  who  would  otherwise 
get  nothing,  and  may  he  without  injustice  accept  my  offer  ?  If  not,  I 
lose  my  excursion,  and  he  loses  his  opportunity  of  earning  50  francs. 
Why  should  this  be  ? 

In  addition  to  the  above  interpolations,  the  Gazette  appended  a  note 
to  this,  letter,  in  which  it  declared  its  definition  of  justice  to  be  a  quota- 
tion from  memory  of  Austin's  definition  adopted  by  him  from  Hobbes, 
and  after  referring  Mr.  Ruskin  to  Austin  for  the  moral  bearings  of  the 
question,  concluded  by  summing  up  its  views,  which  it  doubted  if  Mr. 
Ruskin  understood,  and  insisting  on  the  definition  of  "  justice  "  as  con- 
formity with  any  rule  whatever,  good  or  bad,"  and  on  that  of  good  as 
w  those  which  promote  the  general  happiness  of  those  whom  they  affect.*' 
(See  the  next  letter.) 


260  ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 

otherwise,  and  who  will  be  honestly  paid  by  what  I  give  him 
for  what  I  ask  of  him. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obliged  servant, 

John  Ruskin. 

Saturday,  29th  April,  1865. 


[From  4 4  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  May  9,  1865.] 

WORK  AND  WAGES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "The  Pall  Mall  Gazette:1 

Sib  :  I  am  under  the  impression  that  we  are  both  getting 
prosy,  or,  at  all  events,  that  no  one  will  read  either  my  last 
letter  or  your  comments  upon  it,  in  the  places  in  which  you 
have  so  gracefully  introduced  them.  For  which  I  am  sorry, 
and  you,  I  imagine,  are  not. 

It  is  true  that  differences  of  feeling  may  exist  among 
gentlemen  ;  yet  I  think  that  gentlemen  of  all  countries  agree 
that  it  is  rude  to  interrupt  your  opponent  while  he  is  speak- 
ing ;  for  a  futile  answer  gains  no  real  force  by  becoming  an 
interjection ;  and  a  strong  one  can  abide  its  time.  I  will 
therefore  pray  you,  in  future,  if  you  publish  my  letters  at  all, 
to  practice  towards  them  so  much  of  old  English  manners  as 
may  yet  be  found  lingering  round  some  old  English  dinner- 
tables  ;  where,  though  we  may  be  compelled  by  fashion  to 
turn  the  room  into  a  green-house,  and  serve  everything  cold, 
the  pieces  de  resistance  are  still  presented  whole,  and  carved 
afterwards. 

Of  course  it  is  open  to  you  to  reply  that  I  dislike  close 
argument.  Which  little  flourish  being  executed,  and  if  you 
are  well  breathed — en  garde,  if  you  please. 

I.  Your  original  position  was  that  wages  (or  price)  bear  no 
relation  to  hardship  of  work.  On  that  I  asked  you  to  join 
issue.  You  now  admit,  though  with  apparent  reluctance,  that 
"the  price  asked  by  the  seller,  no  doubt,  depends  on  the 
labor  expended." 

The  price  asked  by  the  seller  has,  I  believe,  in  respectable 
commercial  houses,  and  respectable  shops,  very  approximate 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  261* 


relation  to  the  price  paid  by  the  buyer.  I  do  not  know  if  you 
are  in  the  habit  of  asking,  from  your  wine-merchant  or  tailor, 
reduction  of  price  on  the  ground  that  the  sum  remitted  will 
be  "  alms  to  themselves  ; "  but,  having  been  myself  in  some- 
what intimate  connection  with  a  house  of  business  in  the 
City,1  not  dishonorably  accounted  of  during  the  last  forty 
years,  I  know  enough  of  their  correspondents  in  every  im- 
portant town  in  the  United  Kingdom  to  be  sure  that  they 
will  bear  me  witness  that  the  difference  between  the  prices 
asked  and  the  prices  taken  was  always  a  very  "  imaginary  " 
quantity. 

But  urging  this  no  farther  for  the  present,  and  marking, 
for  gained  ground,  only  your  admission  that  "  the  price  asked 
depends  on  the  labor  expended,"  will  you  farther  tell  me, 
whether  that  dependence  is  constant,  or  variable?  If  con- 
stant, under  what  law  ;  if  variable,  within  what  limits  ? 

II.  "  The  alms  are  thus  given  by  himself  to  himself."  I 
never  said  they  were  not.  I  said  it  was  a  question  of  alms, 
not  of  trade.  And  if  your  original  leader  had  only  been  an 
exhortation  to  English  workmen  to  consider  every  diminution 
of  their  pay,  in  the  picturesque  though  perhaps  somewhat 
dim,  religious  light  of  alms  paid  by  themselves  to  themselves, 
I  never  should  have  troubled  you  with  a  letter  on  the  subject. 
For,  singular  enough,  Sir,  this  is  not  one  of  the  passages  of 
your  letters,  however  apparently  indefensible,  which  I  care  to 
attack. 

So  far  from  it,  in  my  own  serious  writings  I  have  always 
maintained  that  the  best  work  is  done,  and  can  only  be  done, 
for  love.2  But  the  point  at  issue  between  us  is  not  whether 
there  should  be  charity,  but  whether  there  can  be  trade  ;  not 
whether  men  may  give  away  their  labor,  but  whether,  if  they 


1  That  of  Messrs.  Ruskin,  Telford,  and  Domecq,  in  which  Mr.  Ruskin's 
father,  "  who  began  life  as  a  wine-merchant (Fors  Clavigera,  Letter  x., 
p.  131,  1871),  had  been  a  partner. 

2  See  §  41  of  The  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,  p.  50  of  the  1873  edition. 
44  None  of  the  best  head-work  in  art,  literature,  or  science,  is  ever  paid 
for.  ...  It  is  indeed  very  clear  that  God  means  all  thoroughly  good 
work  aud  talk  to  be  done  for  nothing. w 


•262 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Gil  AGE. 


do  not  choose  to  do  so,  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  price  for  it 
And  my  statement,  as  opposed  to  yours,  is  briefly  this — that 
for  all  labor,  there  is,  under  given  circumstances,  a  just  price 
appoximately  determinable  ;  that  every  conscious  deflection 
from  this  price  towards  zero  is  either  gift  on  the  part  of  the 
laborer,  or  theft  on  the  part  of  the  employer ;  and  that  all 
payment  in  conscious  excess  of  this  price  is  either  theft  on 
the  part  of  the  laborer,  or  gift  on  that  of  the  employer. 

HI.  If  you  wish  to  substitute  the  word  "  moral "  for  ' 6  just " 
in  the  above  statement,  I  am  prepared  to  allow  the  substitu- 
tion ;  only,  as  you,  not  I,  introduced  this  new  word,  I  must 
pray  for  your  definition  of  it  first,  whether  remembered  from 
Mr.  Hobbes,  or  original. 

IV.  I  am  sorry  you  doubt  my  understanding  your  views ; 
but,  in  that  case,  it  may  be  well  to  ask  for  a  word  or  two  of 
farther  elucidation. 

"Justice,"  you  say,  is  "conformity  with  any  rule  whatever, 
good  or  bad."  And  "  good  rules  are  rules  which  promote  the 
general  happiness  of  those  whom  they  affect."  And  bad  rules 
are  (therefore)  rules  which  promote  the  general  misery  of 
those  whom  they  affect  ?  Justice,  therefore,  may  as  often  as 
not  promote  the  general  misery  of  those  who  practice  it  ?  Do 
you  intend  this  ?  1 

Again:  "  Good  rules  are  rules  which  promote  the  general 
happiness  of  those  whom  they  affect."  But,  "the  greatest 
happiness  of  the  greatest  number  is  best  secured  by  laying- 
down  no  rule  at  all"  (as  to  the  price  of  "labor"). 

Do  you  propose  this  as  a  sequitur  ?  for  if  not,  it  is  merely  a 
petitio  pvincipii,  and  a  somewhat  wide  one.  Before,  therefore, 
we  branch  into  poetical  questions  concerning  happiness,  we 
will,  with  your  permission,  and  according  to  my  original  stipu- 
lation, that  we  should  dispute  only  of  one  point  at  a  time, 
determine  the  matters  already  at  issue.  To  which  end,  also, 
I  leave  without  reply  some  parts  of  your  last  letter  ;  not  with* 

1  1 1  Yes.  But,  generally  speaking,  rules  are  beneficial  ;  hence,  gener- 
ally speaking,  justice  is  a  good  thing  in  fact.  A  state  of  society  might 
be  imagined  in  which  it  would  be  a  hideously  bad  thing." — (Foot-note 
answer  of  the  Gazette.) 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


2G3 


out  a  little  strain  on  the  cp/co?  oSovtwj/,  for  which  I  think,  Sir, 
you  may  give  me  openly,  credit,  if  not  tacitly,  thanks. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obliged  servant, 

John  Ruskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  May  4. 


[From  "The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  May  22,  1865.] 

WORK  AND  WAGES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette." 

Sis  :  I  have  long  delayed  my  reply  to  your  notes  on  my  last 
letter  ;  partly  being  otherwise  busy — partly  in  a  pause  of 
surprise  and  doubt  how  low  in  the  elements  of  ethics  we  were 
to  descend. 

Let  me,  however,  first  assure  you  that  I  heartily  concur  in 
your  opening  remarks,  and  shall  be  glad  to  spare  useless  and 
avoid  discourteous  words.  "When  you  said,  in  your  first  reply 
to  me,  that  my  letter  embodied  fallacies  which  appeared  to 
you  pernicious  in  the  highest  degree,  I  also  "  could  not  con- 
sider this  sort  of  language  well  judged."  When  you  called 
one  of  your  own  questions  an  answer,  and  declared  it  to  be 
"simple  and  perfectly  conclusive,"  I  thought  the  flourish 
might  have  been  spared  ;  and  for  having  accused  you  of 
writing  carelessly,  I  must  hope  your  pardon  ;  for  the  dis- 
courtesy, in  my  mind,  would  have  been  in  imagining  you 
to  be  writing  with  care. 

For  instance,  I  should  hold  it  discourteous  to  suppose  you 
unaware  of  the  ordinary  distinction  between  law  and  equity  : 
yet  no  consciousness  of  such  a  distinction  appears  in  your 
articles.  I  should  hold  it  discourteous  to  doubt  your  ac- 
quaintance with  the  elementary  principles  laid  down  by  the 
great  jurists  of  all  nations  respecting  Divine  and  Human 
law  ;  yet  such  a  doubt  forces  itself  on  me  if  I  consider  your 
replies  as  deliberate.  And  I  should  decline  to  continue  the 
discussion  with  an  opponent  who  could  conceive  of  justice 
as  (under  any  circumstances)  "  an  hideously  bad  thing,"  if  I 
did  not  suppose  him  to  have  mistaken  the  hideousness  of 


264 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


justice,  in  certain  phases,  to  certain  persons,  for  its  ultimate 
nature  and  power. 

There  may  be  question  respecting  these  inaccuracies  of 
thought ;  there  can  be  none  respecting  the  carelessness  of 
expression  which  causes  the  phrases  "are"  and  "  ought  to  be  " 
to  alternate  in  your  articles  as  if  they  were  alike  in  meaning. 

I  have  permitted  this,  that  I  might  see  the  course  of  your 
argument  in  your  own  terms,  but  it  is  now  needful  that  the 
confusion  should  cease.  That  wages  are  determined  by  sup- 
ply and  demand  is  no  proof  that  under  any  circumstances  they 
must  be — still  less  that  under  all  circumstances  they  ought  to 
be.  Permit  me,  therefore,  to  know  the  sense  in  which  you 
use  the  word  "  ought "  in  your  paragraph  lettered  page  832  1 
(second  column),  and  to  ask  whether  the  words  "  due," 
"  duty,"  "  devoir,"  and  other  such,  connected  in  idea  with  the 
first  and  third  of  the  "  prsecepta  juris  "  of  Justinian,  quoted 
by  Blackstone  as  a  summary  of  the  wrhole  doctrine  of  law 
(honeste  vivere, — alter um  non  Icedere, — suumque  cuique  tribuere), 
are  without  meaning  to  you  except  as  conditions  of  agree- 
ment ?  3  Whether,  in  fact,  there  be,  in  your  view,  any  honos, 
absolutely  ;  or  whether  we  are  to  launch  out  into  an  historical 
investigation  of  the  several  kinds  of  happiness  enjoyed  in  lives 
of  rapine,  of  selfish  trade,  and  of  unselfish  citizenship,  and  to 
decide  only  upon  evidence  whether  we  will  live  as  pirates,  as 
pedlers,  or  as  gentlemen  ?  If  so,  while  I  shall  be  glad  to  see 
you  undertake,  independently,  so  interesting  an  inquiry,  I 
must  reserve  my  comments  on  it  until  its  close. 

But  if  you  admit  an  absolute  idea  of  a  "  devoir "  of  one 
man  to  another,  and  of  every  honorable  man  to  himself,  tell 
me  why  you  dissent  from  my  statement  of  the  terms  of  that 


1  Viz.,  <:  Wages  ought  to  be  proportioned  to  the  supply  and  demand 
of  labor  and  capital,  and  not  to  the  hardship  of  the  work  and  the  time 
spent  on  it." 

2  "  Justitia  est  constans  et  perpetua  voluntas  suum  cuique  tribuendi 
....  Jurisprudent  est  divinarum  atque  humanarum  rerum  notitia, 
justi  atque  injusti  scientia."  The  third  precept  is  given  above.  Jus- 
tinian, Inst.  i.  1-3;  and  see  Blackstone,  vol.  i.  section  2,  "Of  the 
Nature  of  Laws  in  General." 


BETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  265 


debt  in  the  opening  of  this  discussion.  Observe,  I  asked  for 
no  evangelical  virtue  of  returning  good  for  evil :  I  asked  only 
for  the  Sinaitic  equity  of  return  in  good  for  good,  as  for  Si- 
nai tic  equity  of  return  in  evil  for  evil.  "  Eye  for  eye,"  tooth 
for  tooth  " — be  it  so  ;  but  will  you  thus  pray  according  to  the 
lex  talionis  and  not  according  to  the  lex  gratice  ?  Your  debt  i3 
on  both  sides.  Does  a  man  take  of  your  life,  you  take  also  of 
his.  Shall  he  give  you  of  his  life,  and  will  you  not  give  him 
also  of  yours  ?  If  this  be  not  your  law  of  duty  to  him,  tell  me 
what  other  there  is,  or  if  you  verily  believe  there  is  none. 

But  you  ask  of  such  repayment,  "Who  shall  determine  how 
much  ? 1  I  took  no  notice  of  the  question,  irrelevant  when 
you  asked  it ;  but  in  its  broad  bearing  it  is  the  one  imperative 
question  of  national  economy.  Of  old,  as  at  bridgefoot  of 
Florence,  men  regulated  their  revenge  by  the  law  of  demand 
and  supply,  and  asked  in  measureless  anger,  "Who  shall  de- 
termine how  much?"  with  economy  of  blood,  such  as  we 
know.  That  "  much  "  is  now,  with  some  approximate  equity, 
determined  at  the  judgment-seat,  but  for  the  other  debt,  the 
debt  of  love,  we  have  no  law  but  that  of  the  wolf,  and  the 
locust,  and  the  "  fishes  of  the  sea,  which  have  no  ruler  over 
them."  The  workmen  of  England — of  the  world,  ask  for  the 
return — as  of  wrath,  so  of  reward  by  law  ;  and  for  blood  reso- 
lutely spent,  as  for  that  recklessly  shed ;  for  life  devoted 
through  its  duration,  as  for  that  untimely  cast  away  ;  they 
require  from  you  to  determine,  in  judgment,  the  equities  of 
'  *  Human  He  tribution. " 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  Buskin.2 

May  20,  1865. 


1  See  ante,  second  interpolation  of  the  Gazette,  on  p.  59. 

2  The  discussion  was  not  continued  beyond  this  letter,  the  Gazette 
judging  any  continuance  useless,  the  difference  between  Mr.  jttuskin 
and  themselves  being  44  one  of  nrst  principles. " 


266 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


[From  "The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  May  1,  1867.    Reprinted  also,  with  slight  alterations,  in 
"  Time  and  Tide."  App.  vii.] 

THE  STANDARD  OF  WAGES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,'' 

Sir  :  In  the  course  of  your  yesterday's  article  on  strikes 1 
you  have  very  neatly  and  tersely  expressed  the  primal  fallacy 
of  modern  political  economy— to  wit,  that  the  value  of  any 
piece  of  labor  cannot  be  denned  ;  and  that  "  all  that  can  be 
ascertained  is  simply  whether  any  man  can  be  got  to  do  it 
for  a  certain  sum." 

Now,  sir,  the  "  value"  of  any  piece  of  labor  (/should  have 
written  "  price,"  not  "  value,"  but  it  is  no  matter) — that  is  to 
say,  the  quantity  of  food  and  air  which  will  enable  a  man  to 
perform  it  without  eventually  losing  any  of  his  flesh  or  nerv- 
ous energy,  is  as  absolutely  fixed  a  quantity  as  the  weight  of 
powder  necessary  to  carry  a  given  ball  a  given  distance. 
And  within  limits  varying  by  exceedingly  minor  and  unim- 
portant circumstances,  it  is  an  ascertainable  quantity.  I  told 
the  public  this  five  years  ago,  and — under  pardon  of  your 
politico-economical  contributor,  it  is  not  a  sentimental,  but  a 
chemical,  fact.  Let  any  half-dozen  London  physicians  of 
recognized  standing  state  in  precise  terms  the  quantity  and 
kind  of  food,  and  space  of  lodging,  they  consider  approxi- 
mately necessary  for  the  healthy  Hfe  of  a  laborer  in  any  given 
manufacture,  and  the  number  of  hours  he  may,  without  short- 
ening his  life,  work  at  such  business  daily,  if  in  such  manner 
he  be  sustained.    Let  all  masters  be  bound  to  give  their  men 


1  As  regards  "strikes,"  it  is  of  interest  to  note  the  following  amend- 
ment proposed  by  Mr.  Ruskin  at  a  special  meeting  of  the  National 
Association  for  the  Promotion  of  Social  Science  on  the  subject,  held  in 
18GS:  "That,  in  the  opinion  of  this  meeting,  the  interests  of  workmen 
and  their  employers  are  at  present  opposed,  and  can  only  become  iden- 
tical when  all  are  equally  employed  in  denned  labor  and  recognized 
duty,  and  all,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  are  paid  fixed  salaries, 
proportioned  to  the  value  of  their  services  and  sufficient  for  their  hon- 
orable maintenance  in  the  situations  of  life  properly  occupied  by  them." 
—Daily  Telegraph,  July  16,  1868. 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  267 


a  choice  between  an  order  for  that  quantity  of  food  and  space 
of  lodging,  or  the  market  wages  for  that  specified  number  of 
hours  of  work.  Proper  laws  for  the  maintenance  of  families 
would  require  further  concession ;  but  in  the  outset,  let  but 
this  law  of  wages  be  established,  and  if  then  we  have  more 
strikes,  you  may  denounce  them  without  one  word  of  remon- 
strance either  from  sense  or  sensibility. 

I  am,  Sir,  with  sentiments  of  great  respect, 

Your  faithful  servant, 

John  Buskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  April  30,  1867. 


[From  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,1'  January  24,  1873.] 

HOW  THE  RICH  SPEND  THEIR  MONEY. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette." 

Sir  :  Here  among  the  hills,  I  read  little,  and  withstand, 
sometimes  for  a  fortnight  together,  even  the  attractions  of  my 
Pall  Mall  Gazette.  A  friend,  however,  sent  me,  two  days  ago, 
your  article  signed  W.  E.  G.  on  spending  of  money  (January 
13), 1  which,  as  I  happened  to  have  over-eaten  myself  the  day 
before,  and  taken  perhaps  a  glass  too  much  besides  of  quite 
priceless  port  (Quarles  Harris,  twenty  years  in  bottle),  would 
have  been  a  great  comfort  to  my  mind,  showing  me  that  if  I 


1  The  article,  or  rather  letter,  dealt  with  a  paper  on  M  The  Labor 
Movement "  by  Mr.  Gold  win  Smith  in  the  Contemporary  Review  of 
December,  1872,  and  especially  with  the  following  sentences  in  it: 
"  When  did  wealth  rear  such  enchanted  palaces  of  luxury  as  it  is  rear- 
ing in  England  at  the  present  day  ?  Well  do  I  remember  one  of  those 
palaces,  the  most  conspicuous  object  for  miles  round.  Its  lord  was,  I 
dare  say,  consuming  the  income  of  some  hundreds  of  the  poor  laboring 
families  around  him.  The  thought  that  you  are  spending  on  yourself 
annually  the  income  of  six  hundred  laboring  families  seems  to  me  as 
much  as  a  man  with  a  heart  and  a  brain  can  bear."  W.  R.  G.'s  letter 
argued  that  this  "  heartless  expenditure  all  goes  into  the  pockets"  of 
the  poor  families,  who  are  thus  benefited  by  the  selfish  luxuries  of  the 
lord  in  his  palace. 


.268 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Off  AGE. 


had  done  some  harm  to  myself,  I  had  at  least  conferred  bene- 
fit upon  the  poor  by  these  excesses,  had  I  not  been  left  in 
some  painful  doubt,  even  at  the  end  of  W.  E.  G.'s  most  intel- 
ligent illustrations,  whether  I  ought  not  to  have  exerted  my- 
self further  in  the  cause  of  humanity,  and  by  the  use  of  some 
cathartic  process,  such  as  appears  to  have  been  without  incon- 
venience practised  by  the  ancients,  enabled  myself  to  eat  two 
dinners  instead  of  one.  But  I  write  to  you  to-day,  because  if 
I  were  a  poor  man,  instead  of  a  (moderately)  rich  one,  I  am 
nearly  certain  that  W.  R  G.'s  paper  would  suggest  to  me  a 
question,  which  I  am  sure  he  will  kindly  answer  in  your  col- 
umns, namely,  "  These  means  of  living,  which  this  generous 
and  useful  gentleman  is  so  fortunately  disposed  to  bestow  on 
me — where  does  he  get  them  himself?" 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  Buskin. 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Jan.  23. 


[From  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  January  29,  1873.] 

HOW  THE  RICH  SPEND  THEIR  MONEY. 

To  the  Editor  of  "T7ie  Pall  Mall  Gazette.1' 

Sir  :  I  am  disappointed  of  my  Gazette  to-day,  and  shall  be 
grievously  busy  to-morrow.  I  think  it  better,  therefore,  to 
follow  up  my  own  letter,  if  you  will  permit  me,  with  a  simple 
and  brief  statement  of  the  facts,  than  to  wait  till  I  see  your 
correspondent  W.  R  G.'s  reply,  if  he  has  vouchsafed  me  one. 

These  are  the  facts.  The  laborious  poor  produce  "the 
means  of  life"  by  their  labor.  Rich  persons  possess  them- 
selves by  various  expedients  of  a  right  to  dispense  these 
"means  of  life,"  and  keeping  as  much  means  as  they  want  of 
it  for  themselves,  and  rather  more,  dispense  the  rest,  usually 
only  in  return  for  more  labor  from  the  poor,  expended  in  pro- 
ducing various  delights  for  the  rich  dispenser.  The  idea  is 
now  gradually  entering  poor  men's  minds,  that  they  may  as 
well  keep  in  their  own  hands  the  right  of  distributing  "  the 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  2G0 


means  of  life  "  they  produce ;  and  employ  themselves,  so  far 
as  they  need  extra  occupation,  for  their  own  entertainment  or 
benefit,  rather  than  that  of  other  people.  There  is  something 
to  be  said,  nevertheless,  in  favor  of  the  present  arrangement, 
but  it  cannot  be  defended  in  disguise  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to 
do  more  harm  to  the  cause  of  order,  or  the  rights  of  property, 
than  by  endeavors,  such  as  that  of  your  correspondent,  to  re- 
vive the  absurd  and,  among  all  vigorous  thinkers,  long  since 
exploded  notion  of  the  dependence  of  the  poor  upon  the  rich. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 
January  28.  J.  Buskin. 


[From  4iThe  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  January  SI,  1873.1 

HOW  THE  RICH  SPEND  THEIR  MONEY. 

To  the  Editor  of  "T7ie  Pall  MaU  Gazetted 

Sir  :  I  have  my  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of  the  28th  to-day,  and 
must  at  once,  with  your  permission,  solemnly  deny  the  insidi- 
osity  of  my  question,  "  Where  does  the  rich  man  get  his 
means  of  living  ?  "  I  don't  myself  see  how  a  more  straightfor- 
ward question  could  be  put !  So  straightforward  indeed  that 
I  particularly  dislike  making  a  martyr  of  myself  in  answering 
it,  as  I  must  this  blessed  day — a  martyr,  at  least,  in  the  way 
of  witness  ;  for  if  we  rich  people  don't  begin  to  speak  honestly 
with  our  tongues,  wre  shall,  some  day  soon,  lose  them  and  our 
heads  together,  having  for  some  time  back,  most  of  us,  made 
false  use  of  the  one  and  none  of  the  other.  Well,  for  the 
point  in  question  then,  as  to  means  of  living  :  the  most  exem- 
plary manner  of  answer  is  simply  to  state  how  I  got  my 
own,  or  rather  howr  my  father  got  them  for  me.  He  and  his 
partners  entered  into  what  your  correspondent  mellirluously 
styles  "  a  mutually  beneficent  partnership," 1  with  certain 
laborers  in  Spain.    These  laborers  produced  from  the  earth 

1  W.  R.  G.  had  declared  that  the  rich  man  (or  his  ancestors)  got  the 
money  u  by  co-operation  with  the  poor  .  .  .  by,  in  fact,  entering  into 
a  mutually  beneficent  partnership  with  them,  and  advancing  them  their 
share  of  the  joint  profits  .  .  .  paying  them  beforehand,  in  a  word." 


270 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACK 


annually  a  certain  number  of  bottles  of  wine.  These  produc 
tions  were  sold  by  my  father  and  his  partners,  who  kept  nine- 
tenths,  or  thereabouts,  of  the  price  themselves,  and  gave 
one-tenth,  or  thereabouts,  to  the  laborers.  In  which  state  of 
mutual  beneficence  my  father  and  his  partners  naturally  be- 
came rich,  and  the  laborers  as  naturally  remained  poor.  Then 
my  good  father  gave  all  his  money  to  me  (who  never  did  a 
stroke  of  work  in  my  life  worth  my  salt,  not  to  mention  my 
dinner),  and  so  far  from  finding  his  money  "grow"  in  my 
hands,  I  never  try  to  buy  anything  with  it ;  but  people  tell  me 
"money  isn't  what  it  was  in  your  father's  time,  everything  is 
so  much  dearer."  I  should  be  heartily  glad  to  learn  from 
your  correspondent  as  much  pecuniary  botany  as  will  enable 
me  to  set  my  money  a-growing  ;  and  in  the  mean  time,  as  I 
have  thus  given  a  quite  indubitable  instance  of  my  notions  of 
the  way  money  is  made,  will  he  be  so  kind  as  to  give  us,  not 
an  heraldic  example  of  the  dark  ages  (though  I  suspect  I  know 
more  of  the  pedigree  of  money,  if  he  come  to  that,  than  he 
does),1  but  a  living  example  of  a  rich  gentleman  who  has  made 
his  money  by  saving  an  equal  portion  of  profit  in  some 
mutually  beneficent  partnership  with  his  laborers  ? 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  Ruskin. 

Brantwood,  Coniston, 

King  Charles  the  Martyr,  1873. 

P.  S. — I  see  by  Christie  &  Man  son's  advertisement  that 
some  of  the  best  bits  of  work  of  a  good  laborer  I  once  knew, 
J.  M.  W.  Turner  (the  original  plates  namely  of  the  "Liber 
Studioruin  "),  are  just  going  to  be  destroyed  by  some  of  his 
affectionate  relations.  May  I  beg  your  correspondent  to  ex- 
plain, for  your  readers'  benefit,  this  charming  case  of  heredi- 
tary accumulation  ? 

1  W.  R.  G.  had  written  :  "  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  in  the  case  of 
acquired  wealth,  we  should  probably  find,  were  the  pedigree  traced  fairly 
and  far  back  enough,  that  the  original  difference  between  the  now  rich 
man  and  the  now  poor  man  was,  that  the  latter  habitually  spent  all  lm 
earnings,  and  the  former  habitually  saved  a  portion  of  his  in  order  that 
it  might  accumulate  and  fructify." 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


271 


[Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown.] 

COMMERCIAL  MORALITY.1 

My  Dear  Sir:  Mr.  Johnson's  speech  in  the  Manchester 
Chamber  of  Commerce,  which  you  favor  me  by  sending,  ap- 
pears to  me  the  most  important  event  that  has  occurred  in 
relation  to  the  true  interests  of  the  country  during  my  life- 
time. It  begins  an  era  of  true  civilization.  I  shall  allude  to 
it  in  the  "Fors"  of  March,  and  make  it  the  chief  subject  of 
the  one  following  (the  matter  of  this  being  already  prepared.2 
It  goes  far  beyond  what  I  had  even  hoped  to  hear  admitted — - 
how  much  less  enforced  so  gravely  and  weightily  in  the  com- 
mercial world. 

Believe  me,  faithfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


[From  "  The  Monetary  and  Mining  Gazette,'1  November  13.  1875.] 

THE  DEFINITION  OF  WEALTH. 

Corpus  Chrtsti  College,  Oxford, 
9th  November,  1875. 
To  the  Editor  of  u  The  Monetary  Gazette.'1 

Sir  :  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  mind  on  the  sense,  and 
with  all  my  heart  on  the  courage,  of  your  last  Saturday's  lead- 
ing article,  which  I  have  just  seen.3    You  have  asserted  in  it 

1  This  letter  was  received  from  Mr.  Ruskin  by  a  gentleman  in  Man- 
chester, who  had  forwarded  to  him  a  copy  of  the  speech  made  by  Mr. 
Kichard  Johnson  (President)  at  the  fifty-fourth  annual  meeting  of  the 
Manchester  Chamber  of  Commerce,  Feb.  1,  1875.  Mr.  Johnson's  ad- 
dress dealt  with  the  immorality  of  cheapness,  the  duties  of  merchants 
and  manufacturers  as  public  servants,  and  the  nobility  of  trade  as  a  pro- 
fession which,  when  rightly  and  unselfishly  conducted,  would  yield  to 
no  other  "in  the  dignity  of  its  nature  and  in  the  employment  that  it 
offers  to  the  highest  faculties  of  man." 

2  In  Fors  Clavigera,  (vol.  ii.,  p.  354)  Mr.  Johnson's  speech  is  named 
as  "the  first  living  words  respecting  commerce  which  I  have  ever 
known  to  be  spoken  in  England,  in  my  time,"  but  the  discussion  of  it 
is  postponed. 

3  The  article  was  entitled,  u  What  shall  we  do  with  it  ?" 


272 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


the  two  vital  principles  of  economy,  that  society  cannot  exist 
by  reciprocal  pilfering,  but  must  produce  wealth  if  it  would 
have  it ;  and  that  money  must  not  be  lent,  but  administered 
by  its  masters. 

You  have  not  yet,  however,  denned  wealth  itself,  or  told  the 
ingenuity  of  the  public  what  it  is  to  produce. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  obtain  this  definition  from  econ- 
omists ; 1  perhaps,  under  the  pressure  of  facts,  they  may  at 
last  discover  some  meaning  in  mine  at  the  twenty-fourth  and 
twenty-fifth  pages  of  "Munera  Pulveris." 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  EUSKIN. 


[From  "The  Socialist,11  an  Advocate  of  Love,  Truth-,  Justice,  etc.,  etc.  Printed  and 
Published  by  the  Proprietor,  W.  Freeland,  52  Scotland  Street,  Sheffield,  November, 
1877.] 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  PROPERTY. 

mil  Oct,  1877. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Socialist:' 

Sir  :  Some  Sheffield  friend  has  sent  me  your  fourth  num- 
ber, in  the  general  teaching  of  which  I  am  thankful  to  be  able 
to  concur  without  qualification  :  but  let  me  earnestly  beg  of 
you  not  to  confuse  the  discussion  of  the  principles  of  Prop- 
erty in  Earth,  Air,  or  Water,  with  the  discussion  of  principles 
of  Property  in  general.2  The  things  which,  being  our  neigh- 
bor's, the  Mosaic  Law  commands  us  not  to  covet,  are  by  the 
most  solemn  Natural  Laws,  indeed  our  neighbor's  "  property," 
and  any  attempts  to  communize  these  have  always  ended,  and 
will  always  end,  in  ruin  and  shame. 

Do  not  attempt  to  learn  from  America.  An  Englishman 
has  brains  enough  to  discover  for  himself  what  is  good  for 

1  At  the  meeting  of  the  Social  Science  Association  already  alluded  to 
(p.  4  note),  Mr.  Ruskin  said  that  in  1858  he  had  in  vain  challenged  Mr. 
Mill  to  define  wealth.  The  passages  referred  to  in  Munera  Pulveris 
consist  of  the  statement  and  explanation  of  the  definition  of  Value.  See 
ante,  p.  68,  note. 

2  The  references  in  the  letter  are  to  an  article  on  Property  entitled, 
"  What  should  be  done?" 


LETTERS  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY.  273 


England  ;  and  should  learn,  when  he  is  to  be  taught  anything, 
from  his  Fathers,  not  from  his  children. 

I  observe  in  the  first  column  of  your  15th  page  the  assertion 
by  your  correspondent  of  his  definition  of  money  as  if  differ- 
ent from  mine.  He  only  weakens  my  definition  with  a  "  cer- 
tificate of  credit  "  instead  of  a  "  promise  to  pay."  What  is  the 
use  of  giving  a  man  "  credit " — if  you  don't  engage  to  pay 
him? 

But  I  observe  that  nearly  all  my  readers  stop  at  this  more 
or  less  metaphysical  definition  which  I  give  in  ' 'Unto  this  Last," 
instead  of  going  on  to  the  practical  statement  of  immediate 
need  made  in  "Munera  Pulveris."  1 

The  promise  to  find  Labor  is  one  which  meets  general  de- 
mand ;  but  the  promise  to  find  Bread  is  the  answer  needed 
to  immediate  demand  ;  and  the  only  sound  bases  of  National 
Currency  are  shown  both  in  "  Munera  Pulveris,"  and  "Fors 
Clavigera,"  to  be  bread,  fuel,  and  clothing  material,  of  certi- 
fied quality. 

I  am  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  KUSKIN. 


[From  "  The  Christian  Life,1'  December  20,  1879.] 

on  co-operation:1 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire. 
Dear  Mr.  Holyoake  :  I  am  not  able  to  write  you  a  pretty 
letter  to-day,  being  sadly  tired,  but  am  very  heartily  glad  to 
be  remembered  by  you.    But  it  utterly  silences  me  that  you 


1  See  Unto  this  Last,  p.  53,  note.  u  The  final  and  best  definition  of 
money  is  that  it  is  a  documentary  promise  ratified  and  guaranteed  by 
the  nation,  to  give  or  find  a  certain  quantity  of  labor  on  demand.  See 
also  Munera  Pulveria,  §§  21-25. 

2  This  letter,  which  was  reprinted  in  the  Coventry  Co-operative 
Record  of  January,  1880,  was  written,  some  time  in  August,  1879,  to 
Mr.  George  Jacob  Holyoake,  who  had  sent  Mr.  Ruskin  his  History  of 
Co-operation:  its  Literature  and  its  Advocates,  2  vols.  London  and 
Manchester,  1875-7. 


274 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


should  waste  your  time  and  energy  in  writing  "  Histories  of 
Co-operation  "  anywhere  as  yet.  My  dear  Sir,  you  might  as 
well  write  the  history  of  the  yellow  spot  in  an  egg — in  two 
volumes.  Co-operation  is  as  yet — in  any  true  sense — as  im- 
possible as  the  crystallization  of  Thames  mud. 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

J.  Euskin. 


[From  "The  Daily  News,"  June  10,  1880.] 

ON  CO-OPERATION. 

Bkantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire, 
AjjviI  12,  1880. 

Dear  Mr.  Holyoake  :  I  am  very  glad  that  you  are  safe 
back  in  England,  and  am  not  a  little  grateful  for  your  kind 
reference  to  me  while  in  America,  and  for  your  letter  about 
Sheffield  Museum. 1  But  let  me  pray  for  another  interpreta- 
tion of  my  former  letter  than  mere  Utopianism.  The  one 
calamity  which  I  perceive  or  dread  for  an  Englishman  is  his 
becoming  a  rascal,  and  co-operation  among  rascals — if  it  were 
possible — would  bring  a  curse.  Every  year  sees  our  workmen 
more  eager  to  do  bad  work  and  rob  their  customers  on  the  sly. 
All  political  movement  among  such  animals  I  call  essentially 
fermentation  and  putrefaction — not  co-operation. 

Ever  affectionately  yours, 

J.  EUSKIN- 

1  The  "  kind  reference  to  Mr.  Buskin  while  in  America  "  alludes  to  a 
public  speech  made  by  Mr.  Holyoake  during  his  stay  in  that  country. 
The  "  letter  about  Sheffield  Museum,"  was  one  in  high  praise  of  it, 
written  by  Mr.  Holyoake  to  the  editor  of  the  Sheffield  Independent,  in 
which  paper  it  was  printed  (March  8,  1880). 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTEES. 


I. — THE  MANAGEMENT  OF  KAILWAYS. 

[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  July  31,  1868.] 

IS  ENGLAND  BIG  ENOUGH? 

To  the  Editor  of  u  The  Daily  Telegraph.'" 

Sir  :  You  terminate  to-day  a  discussion  which  seems  to  have 
been  greatly  interesting  to  your  readers,  by  telling  them  the 
"  broad  fact,  that  England  is  no  longer  big  enough  for  her 
inhabitants."  1 

Might  you  not,  in  the  leisure  of  the  recess,  open  with 
advantage  a  discussion  likely  to  be  no  less  interesting,  and 
much  more  useful — namely,  how  big  England  may  be  made 
for  economical  inhabitants,  and  how  little  she  may  be  made 
for  wasteful  ones  ?  Might  you  not  invite  letters  on  this  quite 
radical  and  essential  question— how  money  is  truly  made, 
and  how  it  is  truly  lost,  not  by  one  person  or  another,  but  by 
the  whole  nation? 

For,  practically,  people's  eyes  are  so  intensely  fixed  on  the 
immediate  operation  of  money  as  it  changes  hands,  that  they 
hardly  ever  reflect  on  its  first  origin  or  final  disappearance. 
They  are  always  considering  how  to  get  it  from  somebody 


1  The  discussion  had  been  carried  on  in  a  series  of  letters  from  a 
great  number  of  correspondents  under  the  heading  of  "  Marriage  or 
Celibacy,"  its  subject  being  the  pecuniary  difficulties  in  the  way  of  early 
marriage.  The  Daily  Telegraph  of  July  30  concluded  the  discussion 
with  a  leading  article,  in  which  it  characterized  the  general  nature  of 
the  correspondence  and  of  which  the  final  words  were  those  quoted  by 
Mr.  Ruskin. 


276 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACB. 


else,  but  never  how  to  get  it  where  that  somebody  else  got  it. 
Also,  they  very  naturally  mourn  over  their  loss  of  it  to  other 
people,  without  reflecting  that,  if  not  lost  altogether,  it  may 
still  be  of  some  reflective  advantage  to  them.  Whereas,  the 
real  national  question  is  not  who  is  losing  or  gaining  money, 
but  who  is  making  and  who  destroying  it.  I  do  not  of  course 
mean  making  money,  in  the  sense  of  printing  notes  or  finding 
gold.  True  money  cannot  be  so  made.  When  an  island  is 
too  small  for  its  inhabitants,  it  would  not  help  them  to  one 
ounce  of  bread  more  to  have  the  entire  island  turned  into  one 
nugget,  or  to  find  bank  notes  growing  by  its  rivulets  instead 
of  fern  leaves.  Neither,  by  destroying  money,  do  I  mean 
burning  notes,  or  throwing  gold  away.  If  I  burn  a  five- 
pound  note,  or  throw  five  sovereigns  into  the  sea,  I  hurt  no 
one  but  myself  ;  nay,  I  benefit  others,  for  everybody  with  a 
pound  in  his  pocket  is  richer  by  the  withdrawal  of  my  com- 
petition in  the  market.  But  what  I  want  you  to  make  your 
readers  discover  is  how  the  true  money  is  made  that  will  get 
them  houses  and  dinners  ;  and  on  the  other  hand  how  money 
is  truly  lost,  or  so  diminished  in  value  that  all  they  can  get  in 
a  year  will  not  buy  them  comfortable  houses,  nor  satisfactory 
dinners. 

Surely  this  is  a  question  which  people  would  like  to  have 
clearly  answered  for  them,  and  it  might  lead  to  some  impor- 
tant results  if  the  answer  were  acted  upon.  The  riband- 
makers  at  Coventry,  starving,  invite  the  ladies  of  England  to 
wear  ribands.  The  compassionate  ladies  of  England  invest 
themselves  in  rainbows,  and  admiring  economists  declare  the 
nation  to  be  benefited.  No  one  asks  where  the  ladies  got 
the  money  to  spend  in  rainbows  (which  is  the  first  question  in 
the  business),  nor  whether  the  money  once  so  spent  will  ever 
return  again,  or  has  really  faded  with  the  faded  ribands  and 
disappeared  forever.  Again,  honest  people  every  day  lose 
quantities  of  money  to  dishonest  people.  But  that  is  merely 
a  change  of  hands  much  to  be  regretted  ;  but  the  money  is 
not  therefore  itself  lost ;  the  dishonest  people  must  spend  it 
at  last  somehow.  A  youth  at  college  loses  his  year's  income 
to  a  Jew.    But  the  Jew  must  spend  it  instead  of  him.  Miser 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


277 


or  not,  the  day  must  come  when  his  hands  relax.  A  railroad 
shareholder  loses  his  money  to  a  director  ;  but  the  director 
must  some  day  spend  it  instead  of  him.  That  is  not — at  least 
in  the  first  fact  of  it — national  loss.  But  what  the  public 
need  to  know  is,  how  a  final  and  perfect  loss  of  money  takes 
place,  so  that  the  whole  nation,  instead  of  being  rich,  shall  be 
getting  gradually  poor.  And  then,  indeed,  if  one  man  in 
spending  his  money  destroys  it,  and  another  in  spending  it 
makes  more  of  it,  it  becomes  a  grave  question  in  whose  hands 
it  is,  and  whether  honest  or  dishonest  people  are  likely  to 
spend  it  to  the  best  purpose.  Will  you  permit  me,  Sir,  to  lay 
this  not  unprofitable  subject  of  inquiry  before  your  readers, 
while,  to  the  very  best  purpose,  they  are  investing  a  little 
money  in  sea  air  ? 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  July  80. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  August  6,  1868.] 

THE  OWNERSHIP  OF  RAILWAYS.1 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  The  ingenious  British  public  seems  to  be  discovering, 
to  its  cost,  that  the  beautiful  law  of  supply  and  demand  does 
not  apply  in  a  pleasant  manner  to  railroad  transit.  But  if 
they  are  prepared  to  submit  patiently  to  the  "  natural "  laws 
of  political  economy,  what  right  have  they  to  complain  ?  The 
railroad  belongs  to  the  shareholders  ;  and  has  not  everybody 
a  right  to  ask  the  highest  price  he  can  get  for  his  wares  ?  The 

1  In  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  August  3  appeared  eight  letters,  all  of 
which,  under  the  heading  of  (* Increased  Railway  Fares,''  complained 
of  the  price  of  tickets  on  various  lines  having  been  suddenly  raised.  In 
the  issue  of  August  4  eighteen  letters  appeared  on  the  subject,  whilst  in 
that  of  the  5th  there  were  again  eight  letters.  Mr.  Ruskin's  letter  was 
one  of  four  in  the  issue  of  the  6th.  It  has,  it  will  be  seen,  no  direct 
connection  with  that  one  entitled  "Is  England  Big  Enough?"  which 
precedes  it  in  these  volumes  owing  to  the  allusions  to  it  in  one  of  these 
railway  letters  (p.  282). 


278 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Off  AGE. 


public  have  a  perfect  right  to  walk,  or  to  make  other  opposi- 
tion railroads  for  themselves,  if  they  please,  but  not  to  abuse 
the  shareholders  for  asking  as  much  as  they  think  they  can 

get 

Will  you  allow  me  to  put  the  real  rights  of  the  matter  be- 
fore them  in  a  few  words  ? 

Neither  the  roads  nor  the  railroads  of  any  nation  should 
belong  to  any  private  persons.  All  means  of  public  transit 
should  be  provided,  at  public  expense,  by  public  determina- 
tion where  such  means  are  needed,  and  the  public  should  be 
its  own  "  shareholder." 

Neither  road,  nor  railroad,  nor  canal  should  ever  pay  divi- 
dends to  anybody.  They  should  pay  their  working  expenses, 
and  no  more.  All  dividends  are  simply  a  tax  on  the  traveller 
and  the  goods,  levied  by  the  person  to  whom  the  road  or 
canal  belongs,  for  the  right  of  passing  over  his  property.  And 
this  right  should  at  once  be  purchased  by  the  nation,  and  the 
original  cost  of  the  roadway — be  it  of  gravel,  iron,  or  adamant 
■ — at  once  defrayed  by  the  nation,  and  then  the  whole  work  of 
the  carriage  of  persons  or  goods  done  for  ascertained  prices, 
by  salaried  officers,  as  the  carriage  of  letters  is  done  now. 

I  believe,  if  the  votes  of  the  proprietors  of  all  the  railroads 
in  the  kingdom  were  taken  en  masse,  it  would  be  found  that 
the  majority  would  gladly  receive  back  their  original  capital, 
and  cede  their  right  of  "  revising  "  prices  of  railway  tickets. 
And  if  railway  property  is  a  good  and  wise  investment  of  capi- 
tal, the  public  need  not  shrink  from  taking  the  whole  off  their 
hands.  Let  the  public  take  it.  (I,  for  one,  who  never  held  a 
rag  of  railroad  scrip  in  my  life,  nor  ever  willingly  travelled 
behind  an  engine  where  a  horse  could  pull  me,  will  most 
gladly  subscribe  my  proper  share  for  such  purchase  according 
to  my  income.)  Then  let  them  examine  what  lines  pay  their 
working  expenses  and  what  lines  do  not,  and  boldly  leave  the 
unpaying  embankments  to  be  white  over  with  sheep,  like  Eo- 
man  camps,  take  up  the  working  lines  on  sound  principles, 
pay  their  drivers  and  pointsmen  well,  keep  their  carriages 
clean  and  in  good  repair,  and  make  it  as  wonderful  a  thing 
for  a  train,  as  for  an  old  mail-coach,  to  be  behind  its  time ; 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


279 


and  the  sagacious  British  public  will  very  soon  find  its  pocket 
heavier,  its  heart  lighter,  and  its  " passages"  pleasanter,  than 
any  of  the  three  have  been,  for  many  a  day. 

I  am,  Sir,  always  faithfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  Aug.  5. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  August  10,  1868.] 

RAIL  WA  Y  ECONOMY. 

To  the  Editor  of"  The  Daily  Telegraph:' 

Sir  :  I  had  not  intended  again  to  trespass  on  your  space 
until  I  could  obtain  a  general  idea  of  the  views  of  your  corre- 
spondents on  the  questions  you  permitted  me  to  lay  before 
them  in  my  letters  of  the  31st  July  and  5th  inst.;  but  I  must 
ask  you  to  allow  me  to  correct  an  impression  likely  to  be  cre- 
ated by  your  reference  to  that  second  letter  in  your  interest- 
ing article  on  the  Great  Eastern  Railway,  and  to  reply  briefly 
to  the  question  of  your  correspondent  "  S."  on  the  same  sub- 
ject.1 

1  The  Daily  Telegraph  of  Saturday,  August  8,  contained  an  article  on 
the  "  Increased  Railway  Fares,"  in  which,  commenting  on  Mr.  Ruskin's 
statement  that,  given  the  law  of  political  economy,  the  railways  might  ask 
as  much  as  they  could  get,  it  said  that  Mr.  Ruskin  mistook  tkthe  charge 
against  the  companies.  While  they  neglec'ed  the  1  law  of  supply  and 
demand,'  they  suffered:  now  that  they  obey  that  law,  they  prosper. " 
The  latter  part  of  the  article  dealt  with  a  long  letter  signed  u  Fair  Play," 
which  was  printed  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  the  same  day.  "  To  Mr. 
Ruskin,  who  laughs  at  Political  Economy,"  concluded  the  article  ; 
"  and  to  4  Fair  Play,'  who  thinks  that  Parliament  is  at  the  bottom  of  all 
the  nrlschief,  we  commend  a  significant  fact.  An  agitation  is  now  on 
foot  in  Brighton  to  have  a  second  railway  direct  to  London.  What  is 
the  cause  of  this  ?  Not  the  Legislature,  but  the  conduct  of  the  Brighton 
company  in  raising  its  fares.  That  board,  by  acting  in  the  spirit  of  a 
monopoly,  has  provoked  retaliation,  and  the  public  now  seeks  to  pro- 
tect itself  by  the  aid  of  a  competing  line." 

The  letter  of  the  correspondent  44  S"  (also  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  of 
August  8)  began  by  asking  44  what  the  capitalist  is  to  do  with  his  money, 
if  the  Government  works  the  railways  on  the  principle  of  the  Post  Office." 


280 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


You  say  that  I  mistook  the  charge  against  the  railway  com- 
panies in  taunting  my  unfortunate  neighbors  at  Sydenham  1 
with  their  complaints  against  the  operation  of  the  law  of  sup- 
ply and  demand,  and  that  it  was  because  the  companies  neg- 
lected that  law  that  they  suffered. 

But,  Sir,  the  law  of  supply  and  demand,  as  believed  in  by 
the  British  public  under  the  guidance  of  their  economists,  is  a 
natural  law  regulating  prices,  which  it  is  not  at  all  in  their 
option  to  "neglect."  And  it  is  precisely  because  I  have  al- 
ways declared  that  there  is  no  such  natural  law,  but  that 
prices  can  be,  and  ought  to  be,  regulated  by  laws  of  expedi- 
ency and  justice,  that  political  economists  have  thought  I  did 
not  understand  their  science,  and  you  now  say  I  laugh  at  it 
No,  Sir,  I  laughed  only  at  what  was  clearly  no  science,  but  vain 
endeavor  to  allege  as  irresistible  natural  law,  what  is  indeed 
a  too  easily  resisted  prudential  law,  rewarding  and  chastising 
us  according  to  our  obedience.  So  far  from  despising  true 
political  economy,  based  on  such  prudential  law,  I  have  for 
years  been  chiefly  occupied  in  defending  its  conclusions,  hav- 
ing given  this  definition  of  it  in  1862.  "  Political  Economy  is 
neither  an  art  nor  a  science  ;  but  a  system  of  conduct  and 
legislature  founded  on  the  sciences,  including  the  arts,  and 
impossible  except  under  certain  conditions  of  moral  cult- 
ure."2 

And,  Sir,  nothing  could  better  show  the  evil  of  competition 
as  opposed  to  the  equitable  regulation  of  prices  than  the  in- 
stance to  which  you  refer  your  correspondent  "  Fair  Play  " 
— the  agitation  in  Brighton  for  a  second  railway.  True  pru- 
dential law  would  make  one  railway  serve  it  thoroughly,  and 
fix  the  fares  necessary  to  pay  for  thorough  service.  Competi- 
tion will  make  two  railways  (sinking  twice  the  capital  really 
required)  ;  then,  if  the  two  companies  combine,  they  can  op- 
press the  public  as  effectively  as  one  could ;  if  they  do  not, 


1  Several  of  the  letters  had  been  written  by  residents  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Sydenham. 

2  Essays  on  Political  Economy  (Fraser's  Magazine,  June,  1862,  p.  7S4)} 
now  reprinted  in  Munera  Pulveris,  p.  19,  §  1. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


281 


they  will  keep  the  said  public  in  dirty  carriages  and  in  danger 
of  its  life,  by  lowering  the  working  expenses  to  a  minimum  in 
their  antagonism. 

Next,  to  the  question  of  your  correspondent  "S.,"  "what  I 
expect  the  capitalist  to  do  with  his  money,"  so  far  as  it  is  asked 
in  good  faith  I  gladly  reply,  that  no  one's  "  expectations  "  are 
in  this  matter  of  the  slightest  consequence  ;  but  that  the  moral 
laws  which  properly  regulate  the  disposition  of  revenue,  and 
the  physical  laws  which  determine  returns  proportioned  to  the 
wisdom  of  its  employment,  are  of  the  greatest  consequence  ; 
and  these  may  be  briefly  stated  as  follows : 

1.  All  capital  is  justly  and  rationally  invested  which  sup- 
ports productive  labor  (that  is  to  say,  labor  directly  producing 
or  distributing  good  food,  clothes,  lodging,  or  fuel)  ;  so  long  as 
it  renders  to  the  possessor  of  the  capital,  and  to  those  whom  he 
employs,  only  such  gain  as  shall  justly  remunerate  the  super- 
intendence and  labor  given  to  the  business,  and  maintain  both 
master  and  operative  happily  in  the  positions  of  life  involved 
by  their  several  functions.  And  it  is  highly  advantageous  for 
the  nation  that  wise  superintendence  and  honest  labor  should 
both  be  highly  rewarded.  But  all  rates  of  interest  or  modes  of 
profit  or  capita],  which  render  possible  the  rapid  accumulation 
of  fortunes,  are  simply  forms  of  taxation,  by  individuals,  on 
labor,  purchase,  or  transport ;  and  are  highly  detrimental  to 
the  national  interest,  being,  indeed,  no  means  of  national  gain, 
but  only  the  abstraction  of  small  gains  from  many  to  form  the 
large  gain  of  one.  For,  though  inequality  of  fortune  is  not  in 
itself  an  evil,  but  in  many  respects  desirable,  it  is  always  an 
evil  when  unjustly  or  stealthily  obtained,  since  the  men  who 
desire  to  make  fortunes  by  large  interest  are  precisely  those 
who  will  make  the  worst  use  of  their  wealth. 

2.  Capital  sunk  in  the  production  of  objects  which  do  not 
immediately  support  life  (as  statues,  pictures,  architecture, 
books,  garden-flowers,  and  the  like)  is  beneficially  sunk  if  the 
things  thus  produced  are  good  of  their  kind,  and  honestly 
desired  by  the  nation  for  their  own  sake  ;  but  it  is  sunk  ruin- 
ously if  they  are  bad  of  their  kind,  or  desired  only  for  pride  or 
gain.    Neither  can  good  art  be  produced  as  an  "  investment. " 


282 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACB. 


You  cannot  build  a  govod  cathedral  if  you  only  build  it  that  yon 

may  charge  sixpence  for  entrance. 

3.  1  'Private  enterprise''  should  never  be  interfered  with, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  much  encouraged,  so  long  as  it  is  indeed 
"  enterprise  "  (the  exercise  of  individual  ingenuity  and  audacity 
in  new  fields  of  true  labor),  and  so  long  as  it  is  indeed  "  pri- 
vate," paying  its  way  at  its  own  cost,  and  in  nowise  harmfully 
affecting  public  comforts  or  interests.  But  "private  enter- 
prise "  which  poisons  its  neighborhood,  or  speculates  for  indi- 
vidual gain  at  common  risk,  is  very  sharply  to  be  interfered 
with. 

4.  All  enterprise,  constantly  and  demonstrably  profitable  on 
ascertained  conditions,  should  be  made  public  enterprise,  under 
Government  administration  and  security  ;  and  the  funds  now 
innocently  contributed,  and  too  often  far  from  innocently 
absorbed,  in  vain  speculation,  as  noted  in  your  correspondent 
"Fair  Play's  "  excellent  letter,1  ought  to  be  received  by  Gov- 
ernment, employed  by  it,  not  in  casting  guns,  but  in  growing 
corn  and  feeding  cattle,  and  the  largest  possible  legitimate 
interest  returned  without  risk  to  these  small  and  variously 
occupied  capitalists,  who  cannot  look  after  their  own  money. 
We  should  need  another  kind  of  Government  to  do  this  for 
us,  it  is  true  ;  also  it  is  true  that  we  can  get  it,  if  we  choose  ; 
but  we  must  recognize  the  duties  of  governors  before  we  can 
elect  the  men  fit  to  perform  them. 

-  The  benefit  of  these  several  modes  of  right  investment  of 
capital  would  be  quickly  felt  by  the  nation,  not  in  the  increase 
of  isolated  or  nominal  wealth,  but  in  steady  lowering  of  the 
prices  of  all  the  necessaries  and  innocent  luxuries  of  life,  and 
in  the  disciplined,  orderly,  and  in  that  degree  educational 
employment  of  every  able-bodied  person.  For,  Sir  (again  with 
your  pardon),  my  question  "Is  England  big  enough?"  was 
not  answered  by  the  sad  experience  of  the  artisans  of  Poplar. 
Had  they  been  employed  in  earthbuilding  instead  of  in  ship- 


1  "  Fair  Play's"  letter  noted  the  result  of  investments  made  in  bubble 
railways,  generally  by  "  honest  country  folks  "  or  1  -  poor  clergymen  and 
Widows." 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


283 


building,  and  heaped  the  Isle  of  Dogs  itself  into  half  as  much 
space  of  good  land,  capable  of  growing  corn  instead  of  mosqui- 
toes, they  would  actually  have  made  habitable  England  a  little 
bigger  by  this  time  ; 1  and  if  the  first  principle  of  economy  in 
employment  were  understood  among  us — namely,  always  to 
use  whatever  vital  power  of  breath  and  muscle  you  have  got  in 
the  country  before  you  use  the  artificial  power  of  steam  and 
iron  for  what  living  arms  can  do,  and  never  plough  by  steam 
while  you  forward  your  ploughman  to  Quebec — those  old 
familiar  faces  need  not  yet  have  looked  their  last  at  each  other 
from  the  deck  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  But  on  this  subject  I  will 
ask  your  permission  to  write  you  in  a  few  days  some  further 
words.2 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  Aug.  9. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph, "  December  8,  1865.] 

OUR  RAILWAY  SYSTEM. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  Will  you  allow  me  a  few  words  writh  reference  to  your 
excellent  article  of  to-day  on  railroads.3  All  you  say  is  true. 
But  of  what  use  is  it  to  tell  the  public  this  ?  Of  all  the  eco- 
nomical stupidities  of  the  public — and  they  are  many — the 
out-and-out  stupidest  is  underpaying  their  pointsmen  ;  but  if 
the  said  public  choose  always  to  leave  their  lines  In  the  hands 
of  companies — that  is  to  say  practically,  of  engineers  and 


1  Alluding  to  an  article  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  August  8,  headed 
'*  East-Snd  Emigrants,"  which,  after  remarking  that  "Mr.  Buskin's 
question,  Is  England  big  enough  ?"  had  been  just  answered  rather  sadly 
by  a  number  of  Poplar  artisans,  described  the  emigration  to  Quebec  on 
board  the  St.  Lawrence  of  these  inhabitants  of  the  Isle  of  Dogs,  and 
how,  as  the  ship  lei t  the  dock,  "there  were  many  tears  shed,  as  old, 
familiar  faces  looked  on  each  other  for  the  last  time." 

2  Never,  it  seems,  written. 

3  An  article  which,  dealing  directly  with  some  recent  railway  acci- 
dents, commented  especially  on  the  overcrowding  of  the  lines. 


284 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


lawyers — the  money  they  pay  for  fares  will  always  go,  most 
of  it,  into  the  engineers'  and  lawyers'  pockets.  It  will  be 
spent  in  decorating  railroad  stations  with  black  and  blue 
bricks,  and  in  fighting  bills  for  branch  lines.  I  hear  there  are 
more  bills  for  new  lines  to  be  brought  forward  this  year  than 
at  any  previous  session.  But,  Sir,  it  might  do  some  little 
good  if  you  were  to  put  it  into  the  engineers'  and  lawyers' 
heads  that  they  might  for  some  time  to  come  get  as  much 
money  for  themselves  (and  a  little  more  safety  for  the  public) 
by  bringing  in  bills  for  doubling  laterally  the  present  lines  as 
for  ramifying  them  ;  and  if  you  were  also  to  explain  to  the 
shareholders  that  it  would  be  wiser  to  spend  their  capital  in 
preventing  accidents  attended  by  costly  damages,  than  in  run- 
ning trains  at  a  loss  on  opposition  branches.  It  is  little  busi- 
ness of  mine — for  I  am  not  a  railroad  traveller  usually  more 
then  twice  in  the  year ;  but  I  don't  like  to  hear  of  people's 
being  smashed,  even  when  it  is  all  their  fault ;  so  I  will  ask 
you  merely  to  reprint  this  passage  from  my  article  on  Politi- 
cal Economy  in  Fraser's  Magazine  for  April,  1863,  and  so  leave 
the  matter  to  your  handling  : 

"  Had  the  money  spent  in  local  mistakes  and  vain  private 
litigation  on  the  railroads  of  England  been  laid  out,  instead, 
under  proper  Government  restraint,  on  really  useful  railroad 
work,  and  had  no  absurd  expense  been  incurred  in  ornament- 
ing stations,  we  might  already  have  had — what  ultimately  it 
will  be  found  we  must  have — quadruple  rails,  two  for  passen- 
gers and  two  for  traffic,  on  every  great  line,  and  we  might 
have  been  carried  in  swift  safety,  and  watched  and  warded  by 
well-paid  pointsmen,  for  half  the  present  fares."  1 
I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  Ruskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Dec.  7. 


1  Essays  on  Political  Economy  (Frazer's  Magazine,  April,  1863,  p 
449) ;  Munera  Pulveris,  p.  105,  §  128. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


285 


[From  "The  Daily  Telegraph,11  November  30,  1870.] 

RAILWAY  SAFETY.1 

To  the  Editor  of"  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  I  am  very  busy,  and  have  not  time  to  write  new 
phrases.  Would  you  mind  again  reprinting  (as  you  were 
good  enough  to  do  a  few  days  ago  2)  a  sentence  from  one  of 
the  books  of  mine  which  everybody  said  were  frantic  when  I 
wrote  them  ?    You  see  the  date — 1863. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  Ruskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Mb.  29, 1870. 

I  have  underlined  the  words  I  want  to  be  noticed,  but,  as 
you  see,  made  no  change  in  a  syllable. 

Already  the  Government,  not  unapproved,  carries  letters 
and  parcels  for  us.  Larger  packages  may  in  time  follow — 
even  general  merchandise  ;  why  not,  at  last,  ourselves  ?  Had 
the  money  spent  in  local  mistakes  and  vain  private  litigations 
on  the  railroads  of  England  been  laid  out,  instead,  under 
proper  Government  restraint,  on  really  useful  railroad  work, 
and  had  no  absurd  expense  been  incurred  in  ornamenting  sta- 
tions, we  might  already  have  had — what  ultimately  it  will  be 
found  we  must  have — quadruple  rails,  two  for  passengers,  and 
two  for  traffic,  on  every  great  line  ;  and  wre  might  have  been 
carried  in  swift  safety,  and  watched  and  warded  by  well-paid 
pointsmen,  for  half  the  present  fares. 


1  This  letter  was  elicited  by  a  leading  article  in  the  Daily  Telegraph 
of  November  29,  1870,  upon  railway  accidents,  and  the  means  of  their 
prevention,  apropos  of  two  recent  accidents  which  had  occurred,  both 
on  the  same  day  (November  26,  1870)  on  the  London  rnd  North-West- 
ern Railway. 

2  In  the  first  letter  on  the  Franco-Prussian  War,  ante,  p.  32.  (Daily 
Telegraph,  Oct.  7,  1870.) 


28G 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACS. 


II. — SERVANTS  AKD  HOUSES. 

[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  September  5,  1885.] 

DOMESTIC  SERVANTS— MASTERSHIP. 

To  the  Editor  of  u  The  Daily  Telegraph:1 

Sir  :  You  so  seldom  write  nonsense,  that  you  will,  I  am 
sure,  pardon  your  friends  for  telling  you  when  you  do.  Your 
article  on  servants  to-day  is  nonsense.  It  is  just  as  easy  and  as 
difficult  now  to  get  good  servants  as  it  ever  was.1  You  may 
have  them,  as  you  may  have  pines  and  peaches,  for  the  grow- 
ing, or  you  may  even  buy  them  good,  if  you  can  persuade  the 
good  growers  to  spare  you  them  off  their  walls  ;  but  you  can- 
not get  them  by  political  economy  and  the  law  of  supply  and 
demand. 

There  are  broadly  two  ways  of  making  good  servants  ;  the 
first,  a  sound,  wholesome,  thoroughgoing  slavery — which  was 
the  heathen  way,  and  no  bad  one  neither,  provided  you  under- 
stand that  to  make  real  "  slaves"  you  must  make  yourself  a 
real  "  master  "  (which  is  not  easy).  The  second  is  the  Chris- 
tian's way  :  "  whoso  delicately  bringeth  up  his  servant  from  a 
child,  shall  have  him  become  his  son  at  the  last."  2  And  as  few 
people  want  their  servants  to  become  their  sons,  this  is  not  a 
way  to  their  liking.  So  that,  neither  having  courage  or  self- 
discipline  enough  on  the  one  hand  to  make  themselves  nobly 
dominant  after  the  heathen  fashion,  nor  tenderness  or  justice 
enough  to  make  themselves  nobly  protective  after  the  Chris- 
tian, the  present  public  thinks  to  manufacture  servants  bodily 
out  of  powder  and  hay-stuffing — mentally  by  early  instillation 
of  Catechism  and  other  mechanico-religious  appliances — and 
economically,  as  you  helplessly  suggest,  by  the  law  of  supply 


1  The  article,  after  commenting  on  "the  good  old  times,"  remarked 
that  it  is  now  "  a  social  fact,  that  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world  to  find 
is  a  good  servant." 

2  "He  that  delicately  bringeth  np  his  servant  from  a  child,  shall  liav« 
him  become  his  son  at  the  length." — Proverbs  xxix.  21. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


287 


and  demand,1  with  such  results  as  we  all  see,  and  most  of  us 
more  or  less  feel,  and  shall  feel  daily  more  and  more  to  our 
cost  and  selfish  sorrow. 

Sir,  there  is  only  only  one  way  to  have  good  servants  ;  that 
is,  to  be  worthy  of  being  well  served.  Ah  nature  and  all  hu- 
manity will  serve  a  good  master,  and  rebel  against  an  ignoble 
one.  And  there  is  no  surer  test  of  the  quality  of  a  nation 
than  the  quality  of  its  servants,  for  they  are  their  masters' 
shadows,  and  distort  their  faults  in  a  flattened  mimicry.  A 
wise  nation  will  have  philosophers  in  its  servants'  hall ;  a  knav- 
ish nation  will  have  knaves  there  ;  and  a  kindly  nation  will 
have  friends  there.  Only  let  it  be  remembered  that  "  kind- 
ness" means  as  with  your  child,  so  with  your  servant,  not  in- 
dulgence, but  care. — I  am,  Sir,  seeing  that  you  usually  write 
good  sense,  and  "  serve "  good  causes,  your  servant  to  com- 
mand. J.  Kuskin.  2 

Denmark  Hill,  Sept.  2. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,1'  September  7,  1865.] 

DOMESTIC  SERVANTS— EXPERIENCE. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph.'' 

Sir  :  I  thank  you  much  for  your  kind  insertion  of  my  letter, 
and  your  courteous  and  graceful  answer  to  it.  Others  will 
thank  you  also  ;  for  your  suggestions  are  indeed  much  more 

1  "  We  have  really,"  ran  the  article,  "  no  remedy  to  suggest ;  the  evil 
seems  to  be  curable  only  by  some  general  distress  which  will  drive  more 
people  into  seeking  service,  and  so  give  employers  a  greater  choice.  At 
present  the  demand  appears  to  exceed  the  supply,  and  servants  are  care- 
less about  losing  their  places  through  bad  behavior. 

-  To  this  letter  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  Serjtember  6  replied  by  a  lead- 
er, in  which,  whilst  expressing  itself  alive  to  u  the  sympathy  for  hu- 
manity and  appreciation  of  the  dignity  which  may  be  made  to  underlie 
all  human  relations,"  displayed  by  Mr.  Rnskin,  it  complained  that  he 
had  only  shown  u  how  to  cook  the  cook  when  we  catch  her,"  and  not 
how  to  catch  her.  After  some  detailed  remarks  on  the  servants  of  the 
day,  which  seemed  1 *  to  be  more  ad  rem  than  Mr.  Buskin's  eloquent 
axioms,"  it  concluded  by  expressing  a  hope  "  that  he  would  come  down 


288 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  A  GE. 


ad  rem  than  my  mere  assertions  of  principle  ;  but  both  are 
necessary.  Statements  of  practical  difficulty,  and  the  imme- 
diate means  of  conquering  it,  are  precisely  what  the  editor  of 
a  powerful  daily  journal  is  able  to  give  ;  but  he  cannot  give 
them  justly  if  he  ever  allow  himself  to  lose  sight  of  the  eternal 
laws  which  in  their  imperative  bearings  manifest  themselves 
more  clearly  to  the  retired  student  of  human  life  in  the  phases 
of  its  history.  My  own .  personal  experience — if  worth  any- 
thing— has  been  simply  that  wherever  I  myself  knew  how  a 
thing  should  be  done,  and  was  resolved  to  have  it  done,  I 
could  always  get  subordinates,  if  made  of  average  good  human 
material,  to  do  it,  and  that,  on  the  whole,  cheerfully,  thor- 
oughly, and  even  affectionately  ;  and  my  wonder  is  usually 
rather  at  the  quantity  of  service  they  are  willing  to  do  for  me, 
than  at  their  occasional  indolences,  or  fallings  below  the 
standard  of  seraphic  wisdom  and  conscientiousness.  That 
they  shall  be  of  average  human  material,  it  is,  as  you  wisely 
point  out,  every  householder's  business  to  make  sure.  We 
cannot  choose  our  relations,  but  we  can  our  servants  ;  and 
what  sagacity  we  have  and  knowledge  of  human  nature  cannot 
be  better  employed.  If  your  house  is  to  be  comfortable,  your 
servants'  hearts  must  be  sound,  as  the  timber  and  stones  of  its 
walls  ;  and  there  must  be  discretion  in  the  choice,  and  time 
allowed  for  the  "  settling  "  of  both.  The  luxury  of  having 
pretty  servants  must  be  paid  for,  like  all  luxuries,  in  the  pen- 
alty of  their  occasional  loss  ;  but  I  fancy  the  best  sort  of 
female  servant  is  generally  in  aspect  and  general  qualities  like 
Sydney  Smith's  " Bunch,"1  and  a  very  retainable  creature. 

from  the  clouds  of  theory,  and  give  to  a  perplexed  public  a  few  plain, 
workable  instructions  how  to  get  hold  of  good  cooks  and  maids,  coach- 
men and  footmen." — Mr.  Ruskin  replies  to  it,  and  to  a  large  amount  of 
further  correspondence  on  the  subject,  in  the  next  two  letters  in  the 
Daily  Telegraph. 

1  u  A  man-servant  was  too  expensive  ;  so  I  caught  up  a  little  garden- 
girl,  made  like  a  milestone,  put  a  napkin  in  her  hand,  christened  her 
Bunch,  and  made  her  my  butler.  The  girls  taught  her  to  read,  Mrs. 
Sydney  to  wait,  and  I  undertook  her  morals  :  Bunch  became  the  best 
butler  in  the  county."' — Sydney  Smith's  Memoirs  (vol.  i.  p.  207),  where 
several  other  anecdotes  of  Bunch  are  given. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


2m 


And  for  the  rest,  the  dearth  of  good  service,  if  such  there  be, 
may  perhaps  wholesomely  teach  us  that,  if  we  were  all  a  little 
more  in  the  habit  of  serving  ourselves  in  many  matters,  we 
should  be  none  the  worse  or  the  less  happy. 

I  am,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 
Denmark  Hill,  Sept.  6.  J.  Rtjskin, 


[From  "The  Daily  Telegraph,"  September  18,  1865.] 

DOMESTIC  SERVANTS:  SONSHIP  AND  SLAVERY. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph," 

Sir  :  I  have  been  watching  the  domestic  correspondence  In 
your  columns  with  much  interest,  and  thought  of  offering  you 
a  short  analysis  of  it  wiien  you  saw  good  to  bring  it  to  a  close, 1 
and  perhaps  a  note  or  two  of  my  own  experience,  being  some- 
what conceited  on  the  subject  just  now,  because  I  have  a 
gardener  who  lets  me  keep  old-fashioned  plants  in  the  green- 
house, understands  that  my  cherries  are  grown  for  the  black- 
birds, and  sees  me  gather  a  bunch  of  my  own  grapes  without 
making  a  wry  face.  But  your  admirable  article  of  yesterday 
causes  me  to  abandon  my  purpose  ;  the  more  willingly,  be- 
cause among  all  the  letters  you  have  hitherto  published  there 
is  not  one  from  any  head  of  a  household  which  contains  a 
complaint  worth  notice.  All  the  masters  or  mistresses  whose 
letters  are  thoughtful  or  well  written  say  they  get  on  well 
enough  with  their  servants  ;  no  part  has  yet  been  taken  in  the 
discussion  by  the  heads  of  old  families.  The  servants'  letters, 
hitherto,  furnish  the  best  data  ;  but  the  better  class  of  ser- 
vants are  also  silent,  and  must  remain  so.  Launce,  Grumio, 
or  Fairservice  2  may  have  something  to  say  for  themselves  ; 
but  you  will  hear  nothing  from  Old  Adam  nor  from  carefu 

1  In  the  1 1  admirable  article"  of  September  15,  in  which  the  main 
features  of  the  voluminous  correspondence  received  by  the  Daily  Tele- 
graph on  the  subject  were  shortly  summed  up. 

2  Fairservice  is  mentioned  in  Mr.  Ruskin's  discussion  of  parts  of  the 
Antiquary  in  "Fiction,  Fair  and  Foul"  (Nineteenth  Century,  June, 
1880)  as  an  "  example  of  innate  evil,  unaffected  by  external  influences." 


290 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


Mattie.  One  proverb  from  Sancho,  if  we  could  get  it,  would 
settle  the  whole  business  for  us  ;  but  his  master  and  he  are 
indeed  "  no  more."  I  would  have  walked  down  to  Dulwieh 
to  hear  what  Sam  Weller  had  to  say  ;  but  the  high-level  rail- 
way went  through  Mr.  Pickwick's  parlor  two  months  ago,  and 
it  is  of  no  use  writing  to  Sam,  for,  as  you  are  well  aware,  he 
is  no  penman,  And,  indeed,  Sir,  little  good  will  come  of  any 
writing  on  the  matter.  "  The  cat  will  mew,  the  dog  will  have 
his  day."  You  yourself,  excellent  as  is  the  greater  part  of 
what  you  have  said,  and  to  the  point,  speak  but  vainly  when 
you  talk  of  "  probing  the  evil  to  the  bottom."  This  is  no  sore 
that  can  be  probed,  no  sword  nor  bullet  wound.  This  is  a 
plague  spot.  Small  or  great,  it  is  in  the  significance  of  it,  not 
in  the  depth,  that  you  have  to  measure  it.  It  is  essentially 
bottomless,  cancerous  ;  a  putrescence  through  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  people  is  indicated  by  this  galled  place.  Because 
I  know  this  thoroughly,  I  say  so  little,  and  that  little,  as  your 
correspondents  think,  who  know  nothing  of  me,  and  as  you 
say,  who  might  have  known  more  of  me,  unpractically.  Par- 
don me,  I  am  no  seller  of  plasters,  nor  of  ounces  of  civet. 
The  patient's  sickness  is  his  own  fault,  and  only  years  of  dis- 
cipline will  work  it  out  of  him.  That  is  the  only  really  "  prac- 
tical "  saying  that  can  be  uttered  to  him.  The  relation  of 
master  and  servant  involves  every  other — touches  every  con- 
dition of  moral  health  through  the  State.  Put  that  right,  and 
you  put  all  right ;  but  you  will  find  it  can  only  come  ulti- 
mately, not  primarily,  right ;  you  cannot  begin  with  it.  Some 
of  the  evidence  you  have  got  together  is  valuable,  many  pieces 
of  partial  advice  very  good.  You  need  hardly,  I  think,  unless 
you  wanted  a  type  of  British  logic,  have  printed  a  letter  in 
which  the  writer  accused  (or  would  have  accused,  if  he  had 
possessed  Latinity  enough)  all  London  servants  of  being 
thieves  because  he  had  known  one  robbery  to  have  been  com- 
mitted by  a  nice-looking  girl.1    Bat  on  the  whole  there  is 

1  This  refers  to  a  letter  in  which  the  writer  gave  an  account  of  a  rob- 
bery by  a  housemaid,  and,  drawing  from  her  conduct  the  moral  "put 
not  your  trust  in  London  servants, "  concluded  by  signing  his  letter," 
u  Ab  hoc  disce  omnes." 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


291 


much  common-sense  in  the  letters  ;  the  singular  point  in  them 
all,  to  my  mind,  being  the  inapprehension  of  the  breadth  and 
connection  of  the  question,  and  the  general  resistance  to,  and 
stubborn  rejection  of,  the  abstract  ideas  of  sonship  and  slavery, 
which  include  whatever  is  possible  in  wise  treatment  of  ser- 
vants. It  is  very  strange  to  see  that,  while  everybody  shrinks 
at  abstract  suggestions  of  there  being  possible  error  in  a  book 
of  Scripture,1  your  sensible  English  housewife  fearlessly  re- 
jects Solomon's  opinion  when  it  runs  slightly  counter  to  her 
own,  and  that  not  one  of  your  many  correspondents  seems 
ever  to  have  read  the  Epistle  to  Philemon.  It  is  no  less 
strange  that  while  most  English  boys  of  ordinary  position 
hammer  through  their  Horace  at  one  or  other  time  of  their 
school  life,  no  word  of  his  wit  or  his  teaching  seems  to  remain 
by  them :  for  all  the  good  they  get  out  of  them,  the  Satires 
need  never  have  been  written.  The  Roman  gentleman's  ac- 
count of  his  childhood  and  of  his  domestic  life  possesses  no 
charm  for  them  :  and  even  men  of  education  would  sometimes 
start  to  be  reminded  that  his  "nodes  ccenceque  Deum!"  meant 
supping  with  his  merry  slaves  on  beans  and  bacon.  Will  you 
allow  me,  on  this  general  question  of  liberty  and  slavery,  to 
refer  your  correspondents  to  a  paper  of  mine  touching  closely 
upon  it,  the  leader  in  the  Art-Journal  for  July  last?  and  to 
ask  them  also  to  meditate  a  little  over  the  two  beautiful 
epitaphs  on  Epictetus  and  Zosima,  quoted  in  the  last  paper  of 
the  Idler?2 


!The  last  volume  of  Bishop  Colenso's  work  on  "  The  Pentateuch  and 
Book  of  Joshua  critically  examined  "  was  published  in  the  April  of  the 
year  in  which  these  letters  were  written,  and  his  deposition  by  the 
Bishop  of  Capetown  had  but  recently  been  reversed  by  the  Privy 
Council.  It  is  to  the  discussion  aroused  by  his  book  that  Mr.  Ruskia 
indirectly  refers. 

2  The  leader  in  the  Art-Journal  is  Chapter  vi.  of  The  Cestus  of  Aglaia, 
where  \\  the  infinite  follies  of  modern  thought,  centred  in  the  notion 
that  liberty  is  good  for  a  man,  irrespectively  of  the  use  he  is  likely  to 
make  of  it,"  are  discussed  at  some  length.  The  epitaphs  quoted  are  not 
in  the  Idler  itself,  but  in  the  Essay  on  Epitaphs  printed  at  the  end  of 
some  editions  of  it. 


292 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACE. 


"  I,  Epictetus,  was  a  slave  ;  and  sick  in  body,  and  wretched  in 

poverty  ;  and  beloved  by  the  gods." 
"Zosima,  who  while  she  lived  was  a  slave  only  in  her  body, 

has  now  found  deliverance  for  that  also." 

How  might  we,  over  many  an  "  independent "  Englishman 
reverse  this  last  legend,  and  write — 

"This  man,  who  while  he  lived  was  free  only  in  his  body, 
has  now  found  captivity  for  that  also." 

I  will  not  pass  without  notice — for  it  bears  also  on  wide 
interests — your  correspondent's  question,  how  my  principles 
differ  from  the  ordinary  economist's  view  of  supply  and  de- 
mand. 1  Simply  in  that  the  economy  I  have  taught,  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  popular  view,  is  the  science  which  not  merely 
ascertains  the  relations  of  existing  demand  and  supply,  but 
determines  what  ought  to  be  demanded  and  what  can  be  sup- 
plied. A  child  demands  the  moon,  and,  the  supply  not  being 
in  this  case  equal  to  the  demand,  is  wisely  accommodated 
with  a  rattle  ;  a  footpad  demands  your  purse,  and  is  supplied 
according  to  the  less  or  more  rational  economy  of  the  State, 
with  that  or  a  halter  ;  a  foolish  nation,  not  able  to  get  into  its 
head  that  free  trade  does  indeed  mean  the  removal  of  taxation 
from  its  imports,  but  not  of  supervision  from  them,  demands 
unlimited  foreign  beef,  and  is  supplied  with  the  cattle  murrain 
and  the  like.  There  may  be  all  manner  of  demands,  all  man- 
ner of  supplies.  The  true  political  economist  regulates  these  ; 
the  false  political  economist  leaves  them  to  be  regulated  by 
(not  Divine)  Providence.  For,  indeed,  the  largest  final  de- 
mand anywhere  reported  of,  is  that  of  hell ;  and  the  supply 
of  it  (by  the  broad-gauge  line)  would  be  very  nearly  equal  to 
the  demand  at  this  day,  unless  there  were  here  and  there  a 
swineherd  or  two  who  could  keep  his  pigs  out  of  sight  of  the 
lake. 

Thus  in  this  business  of  servants  everything  depends  on 
what  sort  of  servant  you  at  heart  wish  for  or  "  demand."  If 

1  This  refers  to  a  letter  signed  "  W.  B."  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  of  Sep- 
tember 12. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


293 


for  nurses  you  want  Charlotte  Winsors,  they  are  to  be  had  for 
money  ;  but  by  no  means  for  money,  such  as  that  German 
girl  who,  the  other  day,  on  her  own  scarce-floating  fragment 
of  wreck,  saved  the  abandoned  child  of  another  woman,  keep- 
ing it  alive  by  the  moisture  from  her  lips.1  What  kind  of 
servant  do  you  want  ?  It  is  a  momentous  question  for  you 
yourself — for  the  nation  itself.  Are  we  to  be  a  nation  of  shop- 
keepers, wanting  only  shop-boys ;  or  of  manufacturers,  wanting 
only  hands  ;  or  are  there  to  be  knights  among  us,  who  will 
need  squires — captains  among  us,  needing  crews  ?  Will  you 
have  clansmen  for  your  candlesticks,  or  silver  plate  ?  Myrmi- 
dons at  your  tents,  ant-born,  or  only  a  mob  on  the  Gillies' 
Hill  ?  Are  you  resolved  that  you  will  never  have  any  but  your 
inferiors  to  serve  you,  or  shall  Enid  ever  lay  your  trench  sr 
with  tender  little  thumb,  and  Cinderella  sweep  your  hear^i, 
and  be  cherished  there  ?  It  might  come  to  that  in  time,  ami 
plate  and  hearth  be  the  brighter  ;  but  if  your  servants  are  to 
be  held  your  inferiors,  at  least  be  sure  they  are  so,  and  that 
you  are  indeed  wiser,  and  better-tempered,  and  more  useful 
than  they.  Determine  what  their  education  ought  to  be,  and 
organize  proper  servants'  schools,  and  there  give  it  them.  So 
they  will  be  fit  for  their  position,  and  will  do  honor  to  it,  and 
stay  in  it :  let  the  masters  be  as  sure  they  do  honor  to  theirs, 
and  are  as  willing  to  stay  in  that.  Remember  that  every  peo- 
ple which  gives  itself  to  the  pursuit  of  riches,  invariably,  and 
of  necessity,  gets  the  scum  uppermost  in  time,  and  is  set  by 
the  genii,  like  the  ugly  bridegroom  in  the  Arabian  Nights,  at 
its  own  door  with  its  heels  in  the  air,  showing  its  shoe-soles 
instead  of  a  Face.  And  the  reversal  is  a  serious  matter,  if  re- 
versal be  even  possible,  and  it  comes  right  end  uppermost 
again,  instead  of  to  conclusive  Wrong  end. 

I  suppose  I  am  getting  unpractical  again.  Well,  here  is 
one  practical  morsel,  and  I  have  done.  One  or  two  of  your 
correspondents  have  spoken  of  the  facilities  of  servants  for 


1  Charlotte  Winsor  was  at  this  time  under  sentence  of  death  for  the 
murder  of  a  child,  which  had  been  entrusted  to  her  charge.  I  have 
been  unable  to  verify  the  anecdote  of  her  heroic  anti-type. 


294 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACB. 


leaving  their  places.  Drive  that  nail  home,  Sir.  A  large  stray 
branch  of  the  difficulty  lies  there.  Many  and  many  a  time  I 
have  heard  Mr.  Carlyle  speak  of  this,  and  too  often  I  have  felt 
it  myself  as  one  of  the  evils  closely  accompanying  the  fever  of 
modern  change  in  the  habits  and  hopes  of  life.  My  own  archi- 
tectural work  drives  me  to  think  of  it  continually.  Bound 
every  railroad  station,  out  of  the  once  quiet  fields,  there  bursts 
lip  first  a  blotch  of  brick-fields,  and  then  of  ghastly  houses, 
washed  over  with  slime  into  miserable  fineries  of  cornice  and 
portico.  A  gentleman  would  hew  for  himself  a  log  hut,  and 
thresh  for  himself  a  straw  bed,  before  he  would  live  in  such  ; 
but  the  builders  count  safely  on  tenants — people  who  know 
no  quietness  nor  simplicity  of  pleasure,  who  care  only  for  the 
stucco,  and  lodge  only  in  the  portico,  of  human  life — under- 
standing not  so  much  as  the  name  of  House  or  House-Hold. 
They  and  their  servants  are  always  "  bettering  themselves  " 
divergently. 

You  will  do  good  service  at  least  in  teaching  any  of  these 
who  will  listen  to  ycu,  that  if  they  can  once  make  up  their 
minds  to  a  fixed  state  of  life,  and  a  fixed  income,  and  a  fixed 
expenditure — if  they  can  by  any  means  get  their  servants  to 
stay  long  enough  with  them  to  fit  into  their  places  and  know 
the  run  of  the  furrows — then  something  like  service  and  mas- 
tership, and  fulfilment  of  understood  and  reciprocal  dut}^,  may 
become  possible ;  no  otherwise.  I  leave  this  matter  to  your 
better  handling,  and  will  trespass  on  your  patience  no  more. 
Only,  as  I  think  you  will  get  into  some  disgrace  with  your 
lady  correspondents  for  your  ungallant  conclusions  respecting 
them  1 — which  I  confess  surprised  me  a  little,  though  I  might 
have  been  prepared  for  it  if  I  had  remembered  what  order  the 
husband  even  of  so  good  a  housewife  as  Penelope  was  obliged 


1  The  "  admirable  article"  which  had  closed  the  discussion  advised 
mistresses  to  resemble  those  of  the  good  old  days,  and  to  deserve  good 
servants,  if  they  wished  to  secure  them.  It,  somewhat  inconsistently 
with  the  previous  articles,  declared  that  the  days  of  good  service  would 
not  be  found  altogether  past,  if  it  was  remembered  that  by  derivation 
4  4  domestic"  meant  "  homelike,  ?  and  "family"  one's  servants,  not 
one's  children. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


295 


to  take  with  some  of  her  female  servants  after  prolonged  ab- 
sence,— I  have  translated  a  short  passage  of  Xenophon's  Eco- 
nomics 1  for  you,  which  may  make  your  peace  if  you  will  print 
it.  I  wish  the  whole  book  were  well  translated  ;  meantime, 
your  lady  readers  must  be  told  that  this  part  of  a  Greek  coun- 
try gentleman's  account  of  the  conversation  he  had  with  his 
young  wife  (a  girl  of  fifteen  only),  a  little  while  after  their 
marriage,  when  "she  had  got  used  to  him,"  and  was  not 
frightened  at  being  spoken  gravely  to.  First  they  pray  to- 
gether ;  and  then  they  have  a  long  happy  talk,  of  which  this 
is  the  close  : 

"But  there  is  one  of  the  duties  belonging  to  you,"  I  said, 
"  which  perhaps  will  be  more  painful  to  you  than  any  other, 
namely,  the  care  of  your  servants  when  they  are  ill."  "  Nay," 
answered  my  wife,  "  that  will  be  the  most  pleasing  of  all  my 
duties  to  me,  if  only  my  servants  will  be  grateful  when  I  min- 
ister rightly  to  them,  and  will  love  me  better."  And  I,  pleased 
with  her  answer,  said,  "  Indeed,  lady,  it  is  in  some  such  way 
as  this  that  the  queen  of  the  hive  is  so  regarded  by  her  bees, 
that,  if  she  leave  the  hive,  none  will  quit  her,  but  all  will  fol- 
low her."  Then  she  answered,  "  I  should  wonder  if  this  office 
of  leader  were  not  yours  rather  than  mine,  for  truly  my  care 
and  distribution  of  things  would  be  but  a  jest  were  it  not  for 
your  inbringing."  "  Yes,"  I  said,  "  but  what  a  jest  would  my 
inbringing  be  if  there  were  no  one  to  take  care  of  what  I 


1  See  The  Economist  of  Xenophon,  since  (1875)  translated  and  pub- 
lished in  the  "  Bibliotheca  Pastorum,"  edited  by  Mr.  Buskin  (vol.  i.  p. 
50,  chap.  vii.  §  37-43).  Mr.  Ruskin  in  his  preface  to  the  volume  speaks 
of  the  book  as  containing  "  first,  a  faultless  definition  of  wealth"  .  ,  . 
*'  secondly,  the  most  perfect  ideal  of  kingly  character  and  kingly  govern- 
ment given  in  literature.''  ....  and  "  thirdly,  the  ideal  of  domestic 
life.''  It  may  be  interesting  to  note  an  earlier  and  quaint  estimate  of  the 
work,  given  in  "  Xenophon's  Treatise  of  Householde — imprinted  at  Lon- 
don, in  Fleet  Street,  by  T.  Berthelet,  1534,"  where  the  dialogue  is  de- 
scribed as  "  ryght  counnyngly  translated  out  of  the  Greke  tongue  into 
Englysshe  by  Gentian  Hervet  at  the  desyre  of  Mayster  Geffrey  Pole, 
whiche  boke  for  the  weithe  of  this  realme  I  derae  very  profitable  to  bo 
red." 


296 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OHACM 


brought  Do  not  you  know  how  those  are  pitied  of  whom  it 
is  fabled  that  they  have  always  to  pour  water  into  a  pierced 
vessel  ?  "  "  Yes  ;  and  they  are  unhappy,  if  in  truth  they  do 
it,"  said  she.  ' '  Then  also,"  I  said,  "  remember  your  other  per- 
sonal cares.  Will  all  be  sweet  to  you  when,  taking  one  of 
your  maidens  who  knows  not  how  to  spin,  you  teach  her,  and 
make  her  twice  the  girl  she  was  ;  or  one  who  has  no  method 
nor  habit  of  direction,  and  you  teach  her  how  to  manage  a 
house,  and  make  her  faithful  and  mistress-like  and  every  way 
worthy,  and  when  you  have  the  power  of  benefiting  those  who 
are  orderly  and  useful  in  the  house,  and  of  punishing  any 
one  who  is  manifestly  disposed  to  evil?  But  what  will  be 
sweetest  of  all,  if  it  may  come  to  pass,  will  be  that  you  should 
show  yourself  better  even  than  me,  and  so  make  me  your  ser- 
vant also  :  so  that  you  need  not  fear  in  advancing  age  to  be 
less  honored  in  my  house  ;  but  may  have  sure  hope  that  in 
becoming  old,  by  how  much  more  you  have  become  also  a 
noble  fellow-worker  with  me,  and  joint  guardian  of  our  chil- 
dren's possessions,  by  so  much  shall  you  be  more  honored  in 
my  household.  For  what  is  lovely  and  good  increases  for  all 
men — not  through  fairness  of  the  body,  but  through  strength 
and  virtue  in  things  pertaining  to  life.  And  this  is  what  I 
remember  chiefly  of  what  we  said  in  our  first  talk  together." 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  RlJSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  Sept  16. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  October  17,  1865.] 

MODERN  HOUSES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  I  trust  you  will  hold  the  very  able  and  interesting 
letter  from  "  W.  H.  W.,"  1  which  you  publish  to-day,  excuse 

1  The  letter  of  "  W.  H.  W."  commenced  by  stating  that  the  writer 
had  14  waited  till  the  discussion  ....  about  domestic  servants  was 
brought  to  a  close  to  make  a  few  remarks  on  a  subject  touched  on  in  Mr. 
Ruskin's  last  letter — domestic  architecture."  It  then  gave  a  "  graphic 
description"  of  "W.  H.  W.V  own  modern  villa  and  its  miseries,  and 
concluded  by  asking  Mr.  Ruskin  if  nothing  could  be  done  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


297 


enough  for  my  briefly  trespassing  on  your  space  once  more. 
Indeed,  it  has  been  a  discomfort  to  me  that  I  have  not  yet 
asked  the  pardon  of  your  correspondent,  "A  Tenant,  not  at 
will"  (Sept.  21), 1  for  the  apparent  discourtesy  of  thought  of 
which  he  accused  me.  He  need  not  have  done  so  :  for  al- 
though I  said  "  a  gentleman  would  hew  for  himself  a  log  hut" 
rather  than  live  in  modern  houses,  I  never  said  he  would 
rather  abandon  his  family  and  his  business  than  live  in  them  ; 
and  your  correspondent  himself,  in  his  previously  written 
letter,  had  used  precisely  the  same  words.  And  he  must  not 
suspect  that  I  intend  to  be  ironical  in  saying  that  the  pro- 
longed coincidence  of  thought  and  word  in  the  two  letters 
well  deserves  the  notice  of  your  readers,  in  the  proof  it  gives 
of  the  strength  and  truth  of  the  impression  on  both  minds. 
"W.  H.  W.'s"  graphic  description  of  his  house  is  also  sor- 
rowfully faithful  to  the  facts  of  daily  experience  ;  and  I  doubt 
not  that  you  will  soon  have  other  communications  of  the  same 
tenor,  and  all  too  true. 

I  made  no  attempt  to  answer  "A  Tenant,  not  at  will,"  be- 
cause the  subject  is  much  too  wide  for  any  detailed  treatment 
in  a  letter  ;  and  you  do  not  care  for  generalizations  of  mine. 
But  I  am  sure  your  two  correspondents,  and  the  large  class  of 
sufferers  which  they  represent,  would  be  very  sincerely  grate- 
ful for  some  generalizations  of  yours  on  this  matter.  For,  Sir, 
surely  of  all  questions  for  the  political  economist,  this  of  put- 

1  u  A  Tenant,  not  at  will''  had  written  to  point  out  tlie  coincidence 
that  he  had,  before  the  publication  of  Mr.  Buskin's  third  letter,  him- 
self begun  a  letter  to  the  Daily  Telegraph  on  the  subject  of  houses, 
in  parts  of  which,  strangely  enough,  he  had  used  expressions  very  simi- 
lar to  those  of  Mr.  Buskin  (see  ante,  pp.  144-8).  He  had  described  his 
modern  suburban  villa  as  "  one  of  an  ugly  mass  of  blossoms  lately  burst 
forth  from  the  parent  trunk — a  brickfield;"  and  declared  that  if  it  were 
not  that  people  would  think  him  mad,  he  "  would  infinitely  rather  live 
in  a  log  hut  of  his  own  building  "  than  in  a  builder's  villa.  He  con- 
cluded by  saying  that  all  the  houses  were  the  same,  and  that  therefore, 
until  Mr.  Buskin  could  point  out  honest-built  dwellings  neglected  while 
the  "  villas"  were  all  let,  it  was  not  quite  fair  oC  him  to  assume  that 
* '  suburban  villains "  utterly  wauted  the  true  instinct  of  gentlemen 
which  would  lead  to  the  preference  of  log  huts  to  plaster  palaces. 


290 


ABROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


ting  good  houses  over  people's  heads  is  the  closest  and 
simplest.  The  first  question  in  all  economy,  practically  as 
well  as  etymologically,  must  be  this,  of  lodging.  The  "Eco" 
must  come  before  the  "Nomy  "  You  must  have  a  house 
before  you  can  put  anything  into  it ;  and  preparatorily  to  lay- 
ing up  treasure,  at  the  least  dig  a  hole  for  it.  Well,  Sir,  here, 
as  it  seems  to  my  poor  thinking,  is  a  beautiful  and  simple 
problem  for  you  to  illustrate  the  law  of  demand  and  supply 
upon.  Here  you  have  a  considerable  body  of  very  deserving 
persons  "demanding  "  a  good  and  cheap  article  in  the  way  of 
a  house.  Will  you  or  any  of  your  politico- economic  corre- 
spondents explain  to  them  and  to  me  the  Divinely  Providential 
law  by  which,  in  due  course,  the  supply  of  such  cannot  but  be 
brought  about  for  them  ? 

There  is  another  column  in  your  impression  of  to-day  to 
which,  also,  I  would  ask  leave  to  direct  your  readers'  atten- 
tion— the  4th  of  the  3d  page  ;  and  especially,  at  the  bottom 
of  it,  Dr.  Whitmore's  account  of  Crawford  Place,1  and  his 
following  statement  that  it  is  "  a  kind  of  property  constituting 
a  most  profitable  investment  ; "  and  I  do  so  in  the  hope  that 
you  will  expand  your  interpretation  of  the  laws  of  political 
economy  so  far  as  to  teach  us  how,  by  their  beneficent  and 
inevitable  operation,  good  houses  must  finally  be  provided  for 
the  classes  who  live  in  Crawford  Place,  and  such  other  places ; 
and,  without  necessity  of  eviction,  also-  for  the  colliers  oi 
Cramlington  (vide  2d  column  of  the  same  3d  page).2    I  have. 


1  The  account  consisted  of  a  report  presented  by  Dr.  Whitmore,  a* 
Metropolitan  Officer  of  Health  to  the  district,  to  the  Marylebone  Kepre- 
sentative  Council.  Describing  the  miseries  of  Crawford  Place,  which 
was  left  in  an  untenantable  condition,  while  the  landlords  still  got  high 
rents  for  it,  he  added  that  "property  of  this  description,  let  out  in  separ- 
ate rooms  to  weekly  tenants,  constitutes  a  most  profitable  investment," 
according  to  the  degree  of  flinty  determination  exercised  in  collecting 
the  rents, 

2  This  alludes  to  an  account  of  the  position  of  the  Cramlington  col- 
liers after  seventeen  days  of  strike.  The  masters  attempted  to  evict  the 
pitmen  from  their  houses,  an  attempt  which  the  pitmen  met  partly  by 
serious  riot  and  resistance,  and  partly  by  destroying  the  houses  they 
were  forced  to  leave. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


299 


indeed,  my  own  notions  on  the  subject,  but  I  do  not  trouble 
you  with  them,  for  they  are  unfortunately  based  on  that  wild 
notion  of  there  being  a  "just"  price  for  all  things,  which  you 
sav  in  your  article  of  Oct.  10,  on  the  Sheffield  strikes,  "  has  no 
existence  but  in  the  minds  of  theorists."  1  The  Pall  Mall 
Gazette,  with  which  journal  I  have  already  held  some  discus- 
sion on  the  subject,  eagerly  quoted  your  authority  on  its  side, 
in  its  impression  of  the  same  evening  ;  nor  do  I  care  to  pur- 
sue the  debate  until  I  can  inform  you  of  the  continuous  result 
of  some  direct  results  which  I  am  making  on  my  Utopian 
principles.  I  have  bought  a  little  bit  of  property  of  the  Craw- 
ford Place  description,  and  mending  it  somewhat  according  to 
my  notions,  I  make  my  tenants  pay  me  what  I  hold  to  be  a 
"just  "  price  for  the  lodging  provided.  That  lodging  I  partly 
look  after,  partly  teach  the  tenants  to  look  after  for  themselves  ; 
and  I  look  a  little  after  them,  as  well  as  after  the  rents.  I  do 
not  mean  to  make  a  highly  profitable  investment  of  their  poor 
little  rooms  ;  but  I  do  mean  to  sell  a  good  article,  in  the  way 
of  house  room,  at  a  fair  price  ;  and  hitherto  my  customers 
are  satisfied,  and  so  am  I.2 

In  the  mean  time,  being  entirely  busy  in  other  directions, 
1  must  leave  the  discussion,  if  it  is  to  proceed  at  all,  wholly 
between  you  and  your  readers.  I  will  write  no  word  more 
till  I  see  what  they  all  have  got  to  say,  and  until  you  yourself 
have  explained  to  me,  in  its  anticipated  results,  the  working — 
as  regards  the  keeping  out  of  winter  and  rough  weather — of 
the  principles  of  Non-iquity  (I  presume  that  is  the  proper 
politico-economic  form  for  the  old  and  exploded  word  Ini- 
quity) ;  and  so  I  remain,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 

J.  Euskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Oct  16. 

1  "Such  a  tiling  as  adjust  price/ either  for  labor  or  for  any  other 
commodity,  has,  with  all  submission  to  Mr.  Xtuskin,  no  existence  save 
in  the  minds  of  theorists."  (Daily  Telegraph,  Oct.  10,  quoted  by  the 
Pall  Mall  in  its  ki  Epitome  of  the  Morning  Papers  "  on  the  same  day.) 
The  discussion  with  the  Gazette  consisted  of  the  "  Work  and  Wages  " 
letters  (see  ante,  pp.  55  seqq.). 

2  See  Fors  Clavigeia,  1877,  Letter  78,  Notes  and  Correspondence, 
p.  54. 


300 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


HI— KOMAN  INUNDATIONS. 

[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,11  January  12,  1871.    Also  reprinted  in  "  Fors  Claviger**,' 
1873,  Letter  xxxiii.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  75.] 

A  KING'S  FIRST  DUTY. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraphy 

Sir  :  May  I  ask  you  to  add  to  your  article  on  the  inunda- 
tion of  the  Tiber  some  momentary  invitation  to  your  readers 
to  think  with  Horace  rather  than  to  smile  with  him  ? 

In  the  briefest  and  proudest  words  he  wrote  of  himself  he 
thought  of  his  native  land  chiefly  as  divided  into  the  two  dis- 
tricts of  violent  and  scanty  waters : 

M  Dicar,  qua  violens  obstrepit  Aufidus, 
Et  qua,  pauper  aquse,  Daunus  agrestium 
Regnavit  populorum."  1 

Now  the  anger  and  power  of  that  " tauriformis  Aufidus"  is 
precisely  because  "  regna  Dauni  prsefiuit " — because  it  flows 
past  the  poor  kingdoms  which  it  should  enrich.  Stay  it  there, 
and  it  is  treasure  instead  of  ruin.  And  so  also  with  Tiber 
and  Eridanus.  They  are  so  much  gold,  at  their  sources — 
they  are  so  much  death,  if  they  once  break  down  unbridled 
into  the  plains. 

At  the  end  of  your  report  of  the  events  of  the  inundation, 
it  is  said  that  the  King  of  Italy  expressed  "  an  earnest  desire 
to  do  something,  as  far  as  science  and  industry  could  effect  it, 
to  prevent  or  mitigate  inundations  for  the  future." 

Now  science  and  industry  can  do,  not  "  something,"  but 
everything,  and  not  merely  to  mitigate  inundations — and, 

1  On  December  27  there  was  a  disastrous  inundation  of  the  Tiber,  and 
a  great  part  of  Rome  was  flooded.  The  Daily  Telegraph  in  its  leading 
article  of  Jan.  10,  1871,  on  the  subject,  began  by  quoting  from  the. 
"very  neatest,"  "sparkling,"  "light-hearted"  ode  of  Horace,  "Jam 
satis  terris  nivis  "  (Horace,  Odes,  i.  2).  The  quotations  in  the  letter  are 
from  Odes  iv.  14,  25,  and  from  the  celebrated  ode  beginning  a  Exegi 
monumentum  cere  perennius"  (Odes,  iii.  30). 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


301 


deadliest  of  inundations,  because  perpetual,  maremmas — but 
to  change  them  into  national  banks  instead  of  debts. 

The  first  thing  the  King  of  any  country  has  to  do  is  to 
manage  the  streams  of  it. 

If  he  can  manage  the  streams,  he  can  also  the  people  ;  for 
the  people  also  form  alternately  torrent  and  maremma,  in 
pestilential  fury  or  pestilential  idleness.  They  also  will  change 
into  living  streams  of  men,  if  their  Kings  literally  "  lead  them 
forth  beside  the  waters  of  comfort."  Half  the  money  lost  by 
this  inundation  of  Tiber,  spent  rightly  on  the  hill-sides  last 
summer,  would  have  changed  every  wave  of  it  into  so  much 
fruit  and  foliage  in  spring  where  now  there  will  be  only  burn- 
ing rock.  And  the  men  who  have  been  killed  within  the  last 
two  months,  and  whose  work  and  the  money  spent  in  doing 
it,  have  filled  Europe  with  misery  which  fifty  years  will  not 
efface,1  had  they  been  set  at  the  same  cost  to  do  good  instead 
of  evil,  and  to  save  life  instead  of  destroying  it,  might,  by 
this  10th  of  January,  1871,  have  embanked  every  dangerous 
stream  at  the  roots  of  the  Rhine,  the  Rhone,  and  the  Po,  and 
left  to  Germany,  to  France,  and  to  Italy  an  inheritance  of 
blessing  for  centuries  to  come — they  and  their  families  living 
all  the  while  in  brightest  happiness  and  peace.  And  now ! 
Let  the  Eed  Prince  look  to  it ;  red  inundation  bears  also  its 
fruit  in  time. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 
Jan.  10.  John  Ruskin. 


[From  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,1'  January  19,  1871.] 

A  NATION'S  DEFENCES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette:' 

Sir  :  The  letter  to  which  you  do  me  the  honor  to  refer,  i* 
your  yesterday's  article  on  the  Tiber,  entered  into  no  detail/ 

1  This  letter,  it  will  be  noticed,  was  written  during  the  bombardment 
of  Paris  in  the  Franco-Prussian  war. 

2  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  had  quoted  part  of  the  preceding  letter,  and 
had  spoken  of  44  a  remedy  which  Mr.  Ruskin  himself  appears  to  contem- 
plate, though  he  describes  it  in  rather  a  nebulous  manner." 


302 


ARROWS  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


because  I  had  already  laid  tlie  plans  spoken  of  before  the  Royal 
Institution  in  my  lecture  there  last  February  ; 1  in  which  my 
principal  object  was  to  state  the  causes  of  the  incalculably 
destructive  inundations  of  the  Rhone,  Toccia,  and  Ticino,  in 
1868  ;  and  to  point  out  that  no  mountain  river  ever  was  or  can 
be  successfully  embanked  in  the  valleys  ;  but  that  the  rainfall 
must  be  arrested  on  the  high  and  softly  rounded  hill  surfaces, 
before  it  reaches  any  ravine  in  which  its  force  can  be  concen- 
trated. Every  mountain  farm  ought  to  have  a  dike  about  two 
feet  high — with  a  small  ditch  within  it — carried  at  intervals  in 
regular,  scarcely  perceptible  incline  across  its  fields  ;  with  dis- 
charge into  a  reservoir  large  enough  to  contain  a  week's  maxi- 
mum rainfall  on  the  area  of  that  farm  in  the  stormiest  weather 
— the  higher  uncultivated  land  being  guarded  over  larger 
spaces  with  bolder  embankments.  No  drop  of  water  that  had 
once  touched  hill  ground  ought  ever  to  reach  the  plains  till 
it  was  wanted  there  :  and  the  maintenance  of  the  bank  and 
reservoir,  once  built,  on  any  farm,  would  not  cost  more  than 
the  keeping  up  of  its  cattle-sheds  against  chance  of  whirlwind 
and  snow. 

The  first  construction  of  the  work  would  be  costly  enough ; 
and,  say  the  Economists,  "  would  not  pay."  I  never  heard  of 
any  National  Defences  that  did !  Presumably,  we  shall  have 
to  pay  more  income-tax  next  year,  without  hope  of  any  divi- 
dend on  the  disbursement.    Nay — you  must  usually  wait  a 


1  "  A  Talk  respecting  Verona  and  its  Rivers,"  February  4,  1870.  (See 
Proceedings  of  the  Royal  Institution,  vol.  p.  55.  The  report  of  the 
lecture  was  also  printed  by  the  Institution  in  a  separate  form  ;  pp.  7. ) 
The  lecture  concluded  thus  :  ''Further,  without  in  the  least  urging  my 
plans  impatiently  on  any  one  else,  I  know  thoroughly  that  this  [the  pro- 
tection against  inundations]  which  I  have  said  should  be  done,  can  be 
done,  for  the  Italian  rivers,  and  that  no  method  of  employment  of  our 
idle  able-bodied  laborers  would  be  in  the  end  more  remunerative,  or  in 
the  beginnings  of  it  more  healthful  and  every  way  beneficial  than,  with 
the  concurrence  of  the  Italian  and  Swiss  governments,  setting  them  to 
redeem  the  valleys  of  the  Ticino  and  the  Rhone.  And  I  pray  you  to 
think  of  this  ;  for  I  tell  you  truly — you  who  care  for  Italy — that  both 
her  passions  and  her  mountain  streams  are  noble  ;  but  that  her  happi- 
ness depends  not  on  the  liberty,  but  the  right  government  of  both." 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


303 


year  or  two  before  you  get  paid  for  any  great  work,  even  when 
the  gain  is  secure.  The  fortifications  of  Paris  did  not  pay,  till 
very  lately  ;  they  are  doubtless  returning  cent,  per  cent,  now, 
since  the  kind  of  rain  falls  heavy  within  them  which  they  were 
meant  to  catch.  Our  experimental  embankments  against  (per- 
haps too  economically  cheap)  shot  at  Shoeburyness  are  property 
which  we  can  only  safely  "  realize  "  under  similarly  favorable 
conditions.  Bat  my  low  embankments  would  not  depend  for 
their  utility  on  the  advent  of  a  hypothetical  foe,  but  would 
have  to  contend  with  an  instant  and  inevitable  one  ;  yet  with 
one  who  is  only  an  adversary  if  unresisted ;  who,  resisted, 
becomes  a  faithful  friend — a  lavish  benefactor. 

Give  me  the  old  bayonets  in  the  Tower,  if  I  can't  have 
anything  so  good  as  spades  ;  and  a  few  regiments  of  "  volun- 
teers "  with  good  Engineer  officers  over  them,  and,  in  three 
year's  time,  an  Inundation  of  Tiber,  at  least,  shall  be  Impos- 
sible. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant. 

John  Ruskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Jan.  19,  1871. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  February  4,  1871.] 

THE  WATERS  OF  COMFORT. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  TJie  Daily  Telegraph" 

Sir  :  I  did  not  see  your  impression  of  yesterday  until  too 
late  to  reply  to  the  question  of  your  correspondent  in  Rome  ; 1 
and  I  am  hurried  to-day  ;  but  will  send  you  to-morrow  a  pre- 
cise statement  of  what  I  believe  can  be  done  in  the  Italian 
aplands.  The  simplest  and  surest  beginning  would  be  the 
purchase,  either  by  the  Government  or  by  a  small  company 
formed  in  Rome,  of  a  few  plots  of  highland  in  the  Apennines, 

1  The  correspondent  of  the  Daily  Telegraph  had  written  that  Mr. 
Ruskin's  letter  of  January  10  had  been  translated  into  Italian  and  had 
Bet  people  thinking,  and  he  asked  Mr.  Ruskin  to  write  and  state  the 
case  once  more. 


304 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CRACK 


now  barren  for  want  of  water,  and  valueless  ;  and  the  show- 
ing what  could  be  made  of  them  by  terraced  irrigation  such 
as  English  officers  have  already  introduced  in  many  parts  of 
India.  The  Agricultural  College  at  Cirencester  ought,  I  think, 
to  be  able  to  send  out  two  or  three  superintendents,  who 
would  direct  rightly  the  first  processes  of  cultivation,  choosing 
for  purchase  good  soil  in  good  exposures,  and  which  would 
need  only  irrigation  to  become  fruitful ;  and  by  next  sum- 
mer, if  not  by  the  end  of  this,  there  would  be  growing  food 
for  men  and  cattle  where  now  there  is  only  hot  dust ;  and  I 
do  not  think  there  would  be  much  further  question  "where 
the  money  was  to  come  from.,,  The  real  question  is  only, 
"  Will  you  pay  your  money  in  advance  for  what  is  actually 
new  land  added  to  the  kingdom  of  living  Italy?"  or  "Will 
you  pay  it  under  call  from  the  Tiber  every  ten  or  twenty 
years  as  the  price  of  the  work  done  by  the  river  for  your  de- 
struction ?  " 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  RuSKIN. 

Oxford,  Feb.  3. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  February  7,  1ST1.] 

THE  STREAMS  OF  ITALY.* 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph:' 

Sir  :  In  this  month,  just  thirty  years  ago,  I  was  at  Naples, 
and  the  days  were  nearly  as  dark  as  these,  but  with  clouds 
and  rain,  not  fog.  The  streets  leading  down  from  St.  Elmo 
became  beds  of  torrents.  A  story  went  about — true  or  not  I 
do  not  know,  but  credible  enough — of  a  child's  having  been 
carried  off  by  the  gutter  and  drowned  at  the  bottom  of  the 
hill.  At  last  came  indeed  what,  in  those  simple  times,  people 
thought  a  serious  loss  of  life.  A  heavy  storm  burst  one  night 
above  a  village  on  the  flank  of  the  Monte  St.  Angelo,  a  mile 
or  two  south  of  Pompeii.  The  limestones  slope  steeply  there 
under  about  three  feet  of  block  earth.    The  water  peeled  a 


1  See  the  date  of  letter  on  a  landslip  near  Giagnano  (vol  i.  p.  197.) 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS, 


305 


piece  of  the  rock  of  its  earth,  as  one  would  peel  an  orange, 
and  brought  down  three  or  four  acres  of  the  good  soil  in  a 
heap  on  the  village  at  midnight,  driving  in  the  upper  walls, 
and  briefly  burying  some  fourteen  or  fifteen  people  in  their 
sleep — and,  as  I  say,  in  those  times  there  was  some  talk  even 
about  fourteen  or  fifteen.  But  the  same  kind  of  thing  takes 
place,  of  course,  more  or  less,  among  the  hills  in  almost  every 
violent  storm,  generally  with  the  double  result  of  ruining 
more  ground  below  than  is  removed  from  the  rocks  above ; 
for  the  frantic  streams  mostly  finish  their  work  with  a  heap 
of  gravel  and  blocks  of  stone  like  that  which  came  down  the 
ravine  below  the  glacier  of  Greppond  about  ten  years  ago, 
and  destroyed,  for  at  least  fifty  years  to  come,  some  of  quite 
the  best  land  in  Chamouni. 

In  slower,  but  ceaseless  process  of  ruin,  the  Po,  Arno,  and 
Tiber  steadily  remove  the  soil  from  the  hills,  and  carry  it 
d  Jwn  to  their  deltas.  The  Venetians  have  contended  now  for 
a  thousand  years  in  vain  even  with  the  Brenta  and  the  minor 
streams  that  enter  their  lagoons,  and  have  only  kept  their 
canals  clear  by  turning  the  river  south  to  Malamocco  with 
embankments  which  have  unhealthily  checked  the  drainage 
of  all  the  flat  country  about  Padua. 

And  this  constant  mischief  takes  place,  be  it  observed,  irre- 
spective of  inundation.  All  that  Florence,  Pisa,  and  Rome 
have  suffered  and  suffer  periodically  from  floods  is  so  much 
mischief  added  to  that  of  increasing  maremmas,  spoiled  har- 
borages, and  lost  mountain-ground. 

There  is  yet  one  further  evil.  The  snow  on  the  bared  rock 
slips  lower  and  melts  faster  ;  snows  which  in  mossy  or  grass 
ground  would  have  lain  long,  and  furnished  steadily  flowing 
streams  far  on  into  summer,  fall  or  melt  from  the  bare  rock 
in  avalanche  and  flood,  and  spend  in  desolation  in  a  few  days 
what  would  have  been  nourishment  for  half  the  year.  And 
against  all  this  there  are  no  remedies  possible  in  any  sudden 
or  external  action.  It  is  the  law  of  the  Heaven  which  sends 
flood  and  food,  that  national  prosperity  can  only  be  achieved 
by  national  forethought  and  unity  of  purpose. 

In  the  year  1858  I  was  staying  the  greater  part  of  the  sum- 


306 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


nier  at  Bellinzona,  during  a  draught  as  harmful  as  the  storms 
of  ten  years  later.  The  Ticino  sank  into  a  green  rivulet ;  and 
not  having  seen  the  right  way  to  deal  with  the  matter,  I  had 
many  a  talk  with  the  parroco  of  a  little  church  whose  tower  I 
was  drawing,  as  to  the  possibility  of  setting  his  peasants  to 
work  to  repair  the  embankment  while  the  river  was  low.  But 
the  good  old  priest  said,  sorrowfully,  the  peasants  were  too 
jealous  of  each  other,  that  no  one  would  build  anything  or 
protect  his  own  ground  for  fear  his  work  would  also  benefit 
his  neighbors. 

But  the  people  of  Bellinzona  are  Swiss,  not  Italians.  I  be- 
lieve the  Boman  and  Sienese  races,  in  different  ways,  possess 
qualities  of  strength  and  gentleness  far  more  precious  than 
the  sunshine  and  rain  upon  their  mountains,  and,  hitherto,  as 
cruelly  lost.  It  is  in  them  that  all  the  real  power  of  Italy  still 
lives  ;  it  is  only  by  them,  and  by  what  care,  and  providence, 
and  accordant  good-will  ever  be  found  in  them,  that  the 
work  is  to  be  done,  not  by  money ;  though,  if  money  were  all 
that  is  needed,  do  we  in  England  owe  so  little  to  Italy  of 
delight  that  we  cannot  so  much  as  lend  her  spades  and  pick- 
axes at  her  need  ?  Would  she  trust  us  ?  Would  her  govern- 
ment let  us  send  over  some  engineer  officers  and  a  few  sap- 
pers and  miners,  an£  bear,  for  a  time,  with  an  English  instead 
of  a  French  "  occupation 99  of  her  barren  est  hills  ? 

But  she  does  not  need  us.  Good  engineers  she  has,  and 
has  had  many  since  Leonardo  designed  the  canals  of  Lorn- 
bardy.  Agriculturists  she  has  had,  I  think,  among  her  gentle- 
men a  little  before  there  were  gentlemen  farmers  in  England  ; 
something  she  has  told  us  of  agriculture,  also,  pleasantly  by 
the  reeds  of  Mincio  and  among  the  apple-blossoms  wet  with 
Arno.  Her  streams  have  learned  obedience  before  now  :  Fonte 
Branda  and  the  Fountain  of  Joy  flow  at  Sienna  still ;  the  rivu- 
lets that  make  green  the  slopes  of  Casentino  may  yet  satisfy 
true  men's  thirst.  "  Where  is  the  money  to  come  from  ?  "  Let 
Italy  keep  her  souls  pure,  and  she  will  not  need  to  alloy  her 
florins.  The  only  question  for  her  is  whether  still  the  mossy 
rock  and  the  "  rivus  aquae  "  are  "  in  rotis  "  or  rather  the  race- 
course and  the  boulevard — the  curses  of  England  and  of  France, 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS.  307 

At  all  events,  if  any  one  of  the  Princes  of  Eome  will  lead, 
help  enough  will  follow  to  set  the  work  on  foot,  and  show  the 
peasants,  in  some  narrow  district,  what  can  be  done.  Take 
any  arid  piece  of  Apennine  towards  the  sources  of  the  Tiber  ; 
let  the  drainage  be  carried  along  the  hill-sides  away  from  the 
existing  water-courses  ;  let  cisterns,  as  of  old  in  Palestine,  and 
larger  reservoirs,  such  as  we  now  can  build,  be  established  at 
every  point  convenient  for  arrest  of  the  streams  ;  let  channels 
of  regulated  flow  be  established  from  these  over  the  tracts  that 
are  driest  in  summer ;  let  ramparts  be  carried,  not  along  the 
river  banks,  but  round  the  heads  of  the  ravines,  throwing  the 
water  aside  into  lateral  canals  ;  then  terrace  and  support  the 
looser  soil  on  all  the  steeper  slopes  ;  and  the  entire  mountain 
side  may  be  made  one  garden  of  orange  and  vine  and  olive 
beneath  ;  and  a  wide  blossoming  orchard  above  ;  and  a  green 
highest  pasture  for  cattle,  and  flowers  for  bees — up  to  the 
edge  of  the  snows  of  spring. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

John  Kuskin. 

Oxford,  Feb.  3. 


[From  the  "Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  December  28,  1871.] 

THE  STREETS  OF  LONDON. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  "  Pall  Mall  Gazette.'" 

Sir  :  I  have  been  every  day  on  the  point  of  writing  to  you 
since  your  notice,  on  the  18th,1  of  the  dirty  state  of  the  Lon- 
don streets,  to  ask  whether  any  of  your  readers  would  care  to 
know  how  such  matters  are  managed  in  my  neighbourhood. 
I  was  obliged,  a  few  years  ago,  for  the  benefit  of  my  health, 
to  take  a  small  house  in  one  of  the  country  towns  of  Utopia  ; 
and  though  I  was  at  first  disappointed  in  the  climate,  which 
indeed  is  no  better  than  our  own  (except  that  there  is  no  foul 
marsh  air),  I  found  my  cheerfulness  and  ability  for  work 
greatly  increased  by  the  mere  power  of  getting  exercise  pleas- 


1  Quite  unimportant.  It  simply  complained  of  the  condition  of  ths 
streets. 


308 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  A  CB. 


an  try  close  to  my  door,  even  in  the  worst  of  the  winter,  wheiv 
though  I  have  a  little  garden  at  the  back  of  my  house,  I  dis- 
like going  into  it,  because  the  things  look  all  so  dead :  and 
find  my  walk  on  the  whole  pleasanter  in  the  streets,  these  be- 
ing always  perfectly  clean,  and  the  wood-carving  of  the  houses 
prettier  than  much  of  our  indoor  furniture.  But  it  was  about 
the  streets  I  wanted  to  tell  you.  The  Utopians  have  the  oddest 
v/ay  of  carrying  out  things,  when  once  they  begin,  as  far  as 
the}'  can  go  ;  and  it  occurred  to  them  one  dirty  December 
long  since,  when  they,  like  us,  had  only  crossing-sweepers,  that 
they  might  just  as  well  sweep  the  whole  of  the  street  as  the 
crossings  of  it,  so  that  they  might  cross  anywhere.  Of 
course  that  meant  more  work  for  the  sweepers  ;  but  the  Uto- 
pians have  always  hands  enough  for  whatever  work  is  to  be 
done  in  the  open  air  ; — they  appointed  a  due  number  of 
broomsmen  to  every  quarter  of  the  town  ;  and  since  then,  at 
any  time  of  the  year,  it  is  in  our  little  town  as  in  great  Rotter- 
dam when  Dr.  Brown  saw  it  on  his  journey  from  Norwich 
to  Colen  in  1668,  "  the  women  go  about  in  white  slippers," 
which  is  pretty  to  see.1  Now,  Sir,  it  would,  of  course,  be 
more  difficult  to  manage  anything  like  this  in  London,  be- 
cause, for  one  thing,  in  our  town  we  have  a  rivulet  running 
down  every  street  that  slopes  to  the  river ;  and  besides,  be- 
cause you  have  coal-dust  and  smoke  and  what  not  to  deal 
with  ;  and  the  habit  of  spitting,  which  is  worst  of  all — in  Uto- 
pia a  man  would  as  soon  vomit  as  spit  in  the  street  (or  any- 
where else,  indeed,  if  he  could  help  it).  But  still  it  is 
certain  we  can  at  least  anywhere  do  as  much  for  the  whole 
street,  as  we  have  done  for  the  crossing  :  and  to  show  that  we 
can,  I  mean,  on  1st  January  next,  to  take  three  street-sweepers 
into  constant  service  ;  they  will  be  the  first  workpeople  I  em- 
ploy with  the  interest  of  the  St.  George's  fund,  of  which  I 

1  Dr.  Edward  Browne,  the  son  of  the  author  of  the  Religio  Medici, 
Sir  Thomas  Browne.  Writing  to  his  father  from  Rotterdam,  in  1608, 
he  says  :  <l  The  cleanenesse  and  neatnesse  of  this  towne  is  so  new  unto 
mee,  that  it  affoordeth  great  satisfaction,  most  persons  going  ahout  the 
streets  in  white  slippers.  "—Life  and  Works  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
Pickering,  1836.    Vol.  i.  p.  154 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


309 


shall  get  my  first  dividend  this  January  ;  and,  whenever  I 
can  get  leave  from  the  police  and  inhabitants,  I  will  keep  my 
three  sweepers  steadily  at  work  for  eight  hours  a  day ;  and  I 
hope  soon  to  show  you  a  bit  of  our  London  streets  kept  aa 
clean  as  the  deck  of  a  ship  of  the  line.1 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

John  Euskin. 

December  27,  1871. 

IV.— EDUCATION  FOR  RICH  AND  POOR. 

[From  "The  Pall  Mall  Gazette/1  January  31,  1868.] 

TRUE  EDUCATION* 

To  the  Editor  of  "The  Pall  Mall  Gazette." 

Sir  :  The  letter  you  published  yesterday  from  a  parish 
schoolboy  of  "  Sixty  Years  Since  "  at  Weary-faulds  (confirmed 
as  it  would  be  doubtless  in  all  practical  respects  by  testimony  * 
of  English  boys  educated  at  "Waverley  Honour)  has  my  hearty 
sympathy  ;  but  I  am  wearier  than  any  tenant  of  Weary-faulds 
of  seeing  this  subject  of  education  always  treated  as  if  "  educa- 
tion "  only  meant  teaching  children  to  write  or  to  cipher  or  to 


1  Mr.  Ruskin  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  his  sweepers  were  at  work 
in  the  following  J anuary. 

2  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of  January  27 contained  a  leader  on  "Compul- 
sory Education,  "  and  that  of  January  29  one  upon  a  speech  of  the  Bishop 
of  Oxford  on  the  same  subject,  made  at  a  meeting  in  connection  with 
the  National  Society,  held  at  Tunbridge  Wells  on  the  preceding  day.  In 
the  Gazette  of  January  30  appeared  a  letter  referring  to  these  articles, 
headed  4 '  Sixty  Years  Ago,"  and  signed  u  One  who  has  walked  four  miles 
to  the  Parish  School."  It  described  the  writer's  early  home,  situated  in 
some  lowland  parish  north  of  the  Tweed,  and  divided  into  five  or  six 
estates,  such  as  * 1  Whinny-hills  "  and  "  Weary-faulds,"  the  lairds  of 
which  were  shortly  called  u  Whinny"  or  ' '  Weary"  after  their  proper- 
ties. In  this  primitive  village,  where  supervision,  much  less  compul- 
sion, in  education  was  never  heard  of,  "  no  child  grew  up  without  learn- 
ing to  read,"  and  the  morals  of  the  parish  were  on  the  whole  good  ;  the 
children  quarrelled,  but  did  not  steal. — The  reader  will  remember  that 
the  second  title  of  Waverley  is  'Tis  Sixty  Years  Since. 


310 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  AGE. 


repeat  catechism.  You  know,  Sir,  as  you  have  shown  by  your 
comments  on  the  Bishop  of  Oxford's  last  speech  on  this  sub- 
ject, and  you  could  not  at  present  use  your  influence  more 
beneficially  than  by  farther  showing  that  the  real  education — 
the  education  which  alone  should  be  compulsory — means 
nothing  of  the  kind.  It  means  teaching  children  to  be  clean, 
active,  honest,  and  useful.  All  these  characters  can  be  taught, 
and  cannot  be  acquired  by  sickly  and  ill-dispositioned  children 
without  being  taught ;  but  they  can  be  untaught  to  any  extent, 
by  evil  habit  and  example  at  home.  Public  schools,  in  which 
the  aim  was  to  form  character  faithfully,  would  return  them 
in  due  time  to  their  parents,  worth  more  than  their  "  wTeight 
in  gold."  That  is  the  real  answer  to  the  objections  founded 
on  economical  difficulties.  Will  you  not  make  some  effort, 
Sir,  to  get  your  readers  to  feel  this  ?  I  am  myself  quite  sick 
of  saying  it  over  and  over  again  in  vain. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  KUSKIN. 

Denmark  Hill,  Jan.  31,  1868. 


[From  44  The  Glasgow  Herald,"  June  5,  1874.    Also  reprinted  in  11  The  Times  "  of  June 

6,  1874.] 

THE  VAL  UE  OF  LECTURES. 1 

Rome,  26th  May,  1874. 
My  dear  Sir  :  I  have  your  obliging  letter,  but  am  compelled 
by  increase  of  work  to  cease  lecturing  except  at  Oxford — and 
practically  there  also — for,  indeed,  I  find  the  desire  of  audi- 

1  This  letter  was  written  to  Mr.  Chapman,  of  the  Glasgow  Athenaeum 
Lecture  Committee,  in  reply  to  a  request  that  Mr.  Ruskin  would  lecture 
at  their  meetings  during  the  winter.  Writing  from  Oxford,  four  years 
later,  in  answer  to  a  similar  request,  Mr.  Raskin  wrote  as  follows  :  "  Noth- 
ing can  advance  art  in  any  district  of  this  accursed  machine-and-devil 
driven  England  until  she  changes  her  mind  in  many  things,  and  my 
time  for  talking  is  past— Ever  faithfully  yours,  J.  Ruskin.  I  lecture 
here,  hut  only  on  the  art  of  the  past."  (Extract  given  in  the  Times, 
Feb.  12,  1878.) 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


311 


ences  to  be  audiences  only  becoming  an  entirely  pestilent 
character  of  the  age.  Everybody  wants  to  hear — nobody  to 
read — nobody  to  think ;  to  be  excited  for  an  hour — and,  if 
possible,  amused  ;  to  get  the  knowledge  it  has  cost  a  man  half 
his  life  to  gather,  first  sweetened  up  to  make  it  palatable,  and 
then  kneaded  into  the  smallest  possible  pills — and  to  swallow 
it  homceopathically  and  be  wise — this  is  the  passionate  desire 
and  hope  of  the  multitude  of  the  day. 

It  is  not  to  be  done.  A  living  comment  quietly  given  to  a  class 
on  a  book  they  are  earnestly  reading — this  kind  of  lecture 
is  eternally  necessary  and  wholesome  ;  your  modern  fire-work- 
ing, smooth-downy-curry-and-strawberry-ice-and-milk-punch- 
altogether  lecture  is  an  entirely  pestilent  and  abominable 
?anity  ;  and  the  miserable  death  of  poor  Dickens,  when  he 
Ssiight  have  been  writing  blessed  books  till  he  was  eighty,  but 
for  the  pestiferous  demand  of  the  mob,  is  a  very  solemn  warn- 
ing to  us  all,  if  we  would  take  it.1 

God  willing,  I  will  go  on  writing,  and  as  well  as  I  can. 
There  are  three  volumes  published  of  my  Oxford  lectures,2  in 
"which  every  sentence  is  set  down  as  carefully  as  may  be.  If 
people  want  to  learn  from  me,  let  them  read  them  or  my 
monthly  letter  "  Fors  Clavigera."  If  they  don't  care  for  these, 
I  don't  care  to  talk  to  them.  Truly  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


1  The  evil  result  on  Dickens'  health  of  his  last  series  of  readings  at  St. 
James's  Hall,  in  the  early  part  of  1870,  scarcely  four  months  before  his 
death,  is  thus  noted  by  Mr.  Forster :  tk  Little  remains  to  be  told  that  has 
not  in  it  almost  unmixed  sorrow  and  pain.  Hardly  a  day  passed,  while 
the  readings  went  on  or  after  they  closed,  un visited  by  some  effect  or 
other  of  the  disastrous  excitement  consequent  on  them." — Life  of  Charles 
Dickens,  vol.  iii.  p.  493. 

2  Aratra  Pentelici,  The  Eagle's  Nest ;  and  either  Val  d'Arno  (Orping- 
ton, 1874)  or  Lectures  on  Art  (Clarendon  Press,  1870). 


312 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Off  ACM. 


[Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown.] 

THE  CRADLE  OF  ART!  « 

10ft  Feb.  1876. 

My  dear  Sie  :  I  lose  a  frightful  quantity  of  time  because 
people  won't  read  what  I  ask  them  to  read,  nor  believe  any- 
thing of  what  I  tell  them,  and  yet  ask  me  to  talk  whenever 
they  think  they  can  take  a  shilling  or  two  at  the  door  by  me. 
I  have  written  fifty  times,  if  once,  that  you  can't  have  art 
where  you  have  smoke  ;  you  may  have  it  in  hell,  perhaps,  for 
the  Devil  is  too  clever  not  to  consume  his  own  smoke,  if  he 
wants  to.  But  you  will  never  have  it  in  Sheffield.  You  may 
learn  something  about  nature,  shrivelled,  and  stones,  and 
iron  ;  and  what  little  you  can  see  of  that  sort,  I'm  going  to 
try  and  show  you.    But  pictures,  never. 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

John  Buskin. 

If  for  no  other  reason,  no  artist  worth  sixpence  in  a  day 
would  live  in  Sheffield,  nor  would  any  one  who  cared  for  pict- 
ures— for  a  million  a  year. 


[From  "  The  Sheffield  Daily  Telegraph,"  September  7,  1875.] 

ST-.  GEORGE'S  MUSEUM* 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire. 
My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  obliged  by  your  note,  but  the  work  of 
the  St.  George's  Company  is  necessarily  distinct  from  all 
other.    My  "  museum  "  may  be  perhaps  nothing  but  a  two- 

1  This  letter  was  in  answer  to  a  request  of  the  Sheffield  Society  of  Ar- 
tists similar  to  that  replied  to  in  the  preceding  letter. 

2  This  letter  was  written  in  answer  to  one  addressed  to  Mr.  Ruskin  by 
Mr.  W.  Bragge,  F.R.G.S.,  who,  having  read  in  Fors  Clavigera  of  Mr. 
Ruskin's  intention  to  found  the  St.  George's  Museum  at  Sheffield,  wrote 
to  inform  him  that  another  museum,  in  which  his  might  be  incorporated, 
was  already  in  course  of  building.  It  was  read  by  Mr.  Bragge  at  a  din* 
ner  which  followed  the  opening  of  Western  Park  to  the  public  on  Sep- 
tember 6,  1875. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


313 


windowed  garret.  But  it  will  have  in  it  nothing  but  what 
deserves  respect  in  art  or  admiration  in  nature.  A  great  mu- 
seum in  the  present  state  of  the  public  mind  is  simply  an  exhibi- 
tion of  the  possible  modes  of  doing  wrong  in  art,  and  an  accu- 
mulation of  uselessly  multiplied  ugliness  in  misunderstood  nafc* 
ure.  Our  own  museum  at  Oxford  is  full  of  distorted  skulls, 
and  your  Sheffield  ironwork  department  will  necessarily  con- 
tain the  most  barbarous  abortions  that  human  rudeness  has 
ever  produced  with  human  fingers.  The  capitals  of  the  iron 
shafts  in  any  railway  station,  for  instance,  are  things  to  make 
a  man  wish — for  shame  of  his  species — that  he  had  been  bom 
a  dog  or  a  bee. 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

P.  S. — I  have  no  doubt  the  geological  department  will  be 
well  done,  and  my  poor  little  cabinets  will  enable  your  men  to 
use  it  to  better  advantage,  but  would  be  entirely  lost  if  united 
with  it. 


[From  "  The  Daily  Telegraph,"  January  15,  1870.] 

THE  MORALITY  OF  FIELD  SPORTS. 

To  tlie  Editor  of  the  "  The  Daily  Telegraph." 

Sir  :  As,  thirty  years  ago,1  I  publicly  expressed  a  strong 
opinion  on  the  subject  of  field  sports,  and  as  with  more  accu- 
rate knowledge  I  hold  the  same  opinion  still,  and  more  strongly 
— will  you  permit  me  to  place  the  controversy  between  your 

1  In  various  parts  of  Modern  Painters.  See  vol.  v.  p.  281.  M  I  wish, 
however,  the  reader  distinctly  to  understand  that  the  expressions  of  rep- 
robation of  field-sports  which  he  will  find  scattered  through  these  volumes 
o  ,  .  .  refer  only  to  the  chase  and  the  turf  ;  that  is  to  say,  to  hunt- 
ing shooting,  and  horse-racing,  but  not  to  athletic  exercises.  I  have 
just  as  deep  a  respect  for  boxing,  wrestling,  cricketing,  and  rowing,  as 
contempt  of  all  the  various  modes  of  wasting  wealth,  time,  land,  and 
energy  of  soul,  which  have  been  invented  by  the  pride  and  selfishness 
of  men,  in  order  to  enable  them  to  be  healthy  in  uselessness,  and  get 
quit  of  the  burdens  of  their  own  lives,  without  condescending  to  make 
themselves  serviceable  to  others. " 


314 


ARROWS  OF  THE  UHACE. 


correspondents,1  in  which  I  have  no  time  to  take  part,  on 
somewhat  clearer  grounds. 

Eeprobation  of  fox-hunting  on  the  ground  of  cruelty  to  the 
fox  is  entirely  futile.  More  pain  is  caused  to  the  draught- 
horses  of  London  in  an  hour  by  avariciously  overloading  them, 
than  to  all  the  foxes  in  England  by  the  hunts  of  the  year  ;  and 
the  rending  of  body  and  heart  in  human  death,  caused  by 
neglect,  in  our  country  cottages,  in  any  one  winter,  could  not 
be  equalled  by  the  death-pangs  of  any  quantity  of  foxes. 

The  real  evils  of  fox-hunting  are  that  it  wastes  the  time,  mis- 
applies the  energy,  exhausts  the  wealth,  narrows  the  capacity, 
debases  the  taste,  and  abates  the  honor  of  the  upper  classes 
of  this  country  ;  and  instead  of  keeping,  as  your  correspond- 
ent " Forester "  supposes,  "thousands  from  the  work-house/' 
it  sends  thousands  of  the  poor,  both  there,  and  into  the  grave. 

The  athletic  training  given  by  fox-hunting  is  excellent ; 
and  such  training  is  vitally  necessary  to  the  upper  classes.  But 
it  ought  always  to  be  in  real  service  to  their  country ;  in 
personal  agricultural  labor  at  the  head  of  their  tenantry  ;  and 
in  extending  English  life  and  dominion  in  waste  regions, 
against  the  adverse  powers  of  nature.  Let  them  become 
Captains  of  Emigration  ; — hunt  down  the  foxes  that  spoil  the 
Vineyard  of  the  World  ;  and  keep  their  eyes  on  the  leading 
hound,  in  Packs  of  Men. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

Denmark  Hill,  Jan,  14.  J.  Buskin.2 


1  The  correspondence  originated  as  follows :  In  the  Fortnightly 
Review  of  October,  1869,  appeared  an  article  against  fox-hunting  by 
Mr.  E.  A.  Freeman,  entitled,  "The  Morality  of  Field  Sports,"  to  which 
Mr.  Anthony  Trollope  replied  by  one  entitled  "  The  Morality  of  Hunt- 
nig,"  in  the  Fortnightly  of  the  following  December.  Mr.  Freeman  then 
rejoined  by  two  letters  of  considerable  length,  addressed  to  the  editor 
of  the  Daily  Telegraph  (December  18  and  29),  in  whose  columns  some 
discussion  of  the  matter  had  already  been  carried  on,  whilst  one  of  its 
leaders  had  strongly  supported  Mr.  Freeman's  views.  Other  correspon- 
dence on  the  subject  was  still  appearing  in  the  Daily  Telegraph  from 
day  to  day  at  the  time  Mr.  Ruskin  wrote  the  present  letter. 

2  At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty 
to  Animals,  Mr.  Ruskin  is  reported  (Daily  News,  July  11,  1877)  to  have 


MISCELLANEO  US  LETTERS. 


315 


[From  u  The  Daily  Telegraph,11  December  11,  1871.] 

DRUNKENNESS  AND  GRIME. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph:1 

Sir  :  I  am  greatly  surprised  by  the  sliglitness  of  your  article 
to-day  on  the  statistics  of  drunkenness  and  the  relative  sta- 
tistics of  crime.1 

The  tables  you  have  given,  if  given  only  in  that  form  by 
Professor  Leone  Levi,  are  anything  but  "  instructive."  Liquor 
is  not,  for  such  purpose,  to  be  measured  only  by  the  gallon, 
but  by  the  gallon  with  accompanying  statement  of  strength. 

Crime  is  not  for  such  purpose  to  be  measured  by  the 
number  of  criminals,  but  by  the  number,  with  accompanying 


said  that  "  as  he  was  somewhat  concerned  in  the  studies  of  the  scien- 
tific world,  it  might  be  thought  that  he  sympathized  in  the  resistance 
offered,  not  without  some  ground  of  reason,  to  some  of  the  more  enthu- 
siastic and,  he  feared  in  some  respects,  exaggerated  and  sentimental 
actions  of  the  society.  He  pleaded  in  the  name  of  poor  animals  that 
none  of  them  should  act  too  much  on  the  feeling  of  pity,  or  without 
making  a  thoroughly  judicial  inquiry.  In  looking  at  the  report,  he 
found  part  of  the  society's  admirable  evidence  mixed  up  with  sentimen- 
tal tales  of  fiction  and  other  means  of  exciting  mere  emotion,  which  had 
caused  them  to  lose  power  with  those  who  had  the  greatest  influence  in 
the  prevention  of  the  abuses  which  the  society  desired  to  check.  The 
true  justice  of  their  cause  lay  in  the  relations  which  men  had  had  with 
animals  from  the  time  when  both  were  made.  They  had  endeavoured 
to  prevent  cruelty  to  animals  ;  they  had  not  enough  endeavoured  to  pro- 
mote affection  for  animals.  He  thought  they  had  had  too  much  to  do 
in  the  police  courts,  and  not  enough  in  the  field  and  the  cottage  garden. 
As  one  who  was  especially  interested  in  the  education  of  the  poor,  he 
believed  that  he  could  not  educate  them  on  animals,  but  that  he  could 
educate  them  by  animals.  He  trusted  to  the  pets  of  children  for  their 
education  just  as  much  as  to  their  tutors.  He  rejoiced  in  the  separate 
organization  of  the  Ladies'  Committee,  and  looked  to  it  to  give  full 
extent  and  power  to  action  which  would  supersede  all  their  expensive 
and  painful  disputable  duties.  Without  perfect  sympathy  with  the  ani- 
mals around  them,  no  gentleman's  education,  no  Christian  education, 
could  be  of  any  possible  use.  In  concluding,  he  pleaded  for  an  expan* 
sion  of  the  protection  extended  by  the  society  to  wild  birds." 
1  A  short  leader  to  which  special  reference  is  unnecessary. 


BIG 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


statement  of  the  crime  committed.  Drunkenness  very  slightly 
encourages  theft,  very  largely  encourages  murder,  and  univer- 
sally encourages  idleness,  which  is  not  a  crime  apparent  in  a 
tabular  form.  But,  whatever  results  might,  even  by  such  more 
accurate  statement,  be  attainable,  are  not  material  to  the 
question  at  issue.  Drunkenness  is  not  the  cause  of  crime  in 
any  case.  It  is  itself  crime  in  every  case.  A  gentleman  will 
not  knock  out  his  wife's  brains  when  he  is  drunk  ;  but  it  is 
nevertheless  his  duty  to  remain  sober. 

Much  more  is  it  his  duty  to  teach  his  peasantry  to  remain 
sober,  and  to  furnish  them  with  sojourn  more  pleasant  than 
the  pothouse,  and  means  of  amusement  less  circumscribed 
than  the  pot.  And  the  encouragement  of  drunkenness,  for 
the  sake  of  the  profit  on  sale  of  drink,  is  certainly  one  of  the 
most  criminal  methods  of  assassination  for  money  hitherto 
adopted  by  the  bravos  of  any  age  or  country. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

John  Ruskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Dec.  9. 


[From  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  November  4,  1872.   (Also  reprinted  in  "  Fors  Clavigera," 
Letter  xlviii.,  p.  318,  vol.  ii.] 

MADNESS  AND  CRIME. 

To  the  Editor  of"  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette." 

Sir  :  Towards  the  close  of  the  excellent  article  on  the  Taylor 
trial  in  your  issue  for  October  31  1  you  say  that  people  never 
will  be,  nor  ought  to  be,  persuaded,  "to  treat  criminals 
simply  as  vermin  which  they  destroy,  and  not  as  men  who  are 
to  be  punished."  Certainly  not,  Sir!  Who  ever  talked,  or 
thought,  of  regarding  criminals  "simply"  as  anything  (or 
innocent  people  either,  if  there  be  any)?  But  regarding 
criminals  complexly  and  accurately,  they  are  partly  men,  partly 
vermin  ;  what  is  human  in  them  you  must  punish — what  is 
vermicular,  abolish.    Anything  between — if  you  can  find  it — ■ 

1  The  trial  of  Taylor  was  for  murder,  and  ended  in  his  acquittal  on 
the  ground  of  insanity. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


317 


I  wish  you  joy  of,  and  hope  you  may  be  able  to  preserve  it  to 
society.  Insane  persons,  horses,  clogs,  or  cats  become  vermin 
when  they  become  dangerous.  I  am  sorry  for  darling  Fido, 
but  there  is  no  question  about  what  is  to  be  done  with  him. 

Yet,  I  assure  you,  Sir,  insanity  is  a  tender  point  with  me. 
One  of  my  best  friends  has  just  gone  mad ;  and  all  the  rest 
say  I  am  mad  myself.  But  if  ever  I  murder  anybody — and, 
indeed,  there  are  numbers  of  people  I  should  like  to  murder — 
I  won't  say  that  I  ought  to  be  hanged  ;  for  I  think  nobody  but 
a  bishop  or  a  bank-director  can  ever  be  rogue  enough  to  deserve 
hanging ;  but  I  particularly,  and  with  all  that  is  left  me  of 
what  I  imagine  to  be  sound  mind,  request  that  I  may  be 
immediately  shot. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  EUSKIN. 

Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford, 
November  2. 


[From  "The  Daily  Telegraph,"  December  26,  1868.] 

EMPLOYMENT  FOR  THE  DESTITUTE  POOR  AND  CRIMI- 
NAL CLASSES. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph:' 

Sir  :  Your  admirable  leader  of  to-day  1  will  do  great  good  ; 
but  it  will  do  more  if  you  complete  it  by  pointing  out  the  chief 
reason  for  the  frequent  failure  of  almsgiving  in  accomplishing 
any  real  benefit  to  the  poor.  No  almsgiving  of  money  is  so 
helpful  as  almsgiving  of  care  and  thought ;  the  giving  of 
money  without  thought  is  indeed  continually  mischievous  ;  but 
the  invective  of  the  economist  against  mdiscrimate  charity 
is  idle,  if  it  be  not  coupled  with  pleading  for  discriminate 
charity,  and,  above  all,  for  that  charity  which  discerns  the  uses 
that  people  may  be  put  to,  and  helps  them  by  setting  them  to 
work  in  those  services.  That  is  the  help  beyond  all  others  ; 
find  out  how  to  make  useless  people  useful,  and  let  them  earn 
their  money  instead  of  begging  it.  Few  are  so  feeble  as  to  be 


A  Christmas  article  on  Charity. 


318 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  C II ACE. 


incapable  of  all  occupation,  none  so  faultful  but  that  occupa- 
tion, well  chosen,  and  kindly  compelled,  will  be  medicine  for 
them  in  soul  and  body.  I  have  lately  drawn  up  a  few  notes  for 
private  circulation  on  possible  methods  of  employment  for  the 
poor.1  The  reasons  which  weighed  with  me  in  not  publishing 
them  have  now  ceased  to  exist ;  and  in  case  you  should  think 
the  paper  worth  its  room  in  your  columns,  and  any  portion  of 
it  deserving  your  ratification,  I  send  it  you  herewith,  and 
remain  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  KuSKIN. 

Denmakk  Hill,  S.E.,  Dec.  24. 


NOTES  ON  THE  GENERAL  PRINCIPLES  OF  EMPLOY- 
MENT FOR  THE  DESTITUTE  AND  CRIMINAL  CLASSES. 

[For  Private  Circulation  only.    1868.    (Pp.  15,  including  the  title-page.    Printed  by 
Strangeways  &  Walden,  Castle  Street,  Leicester  Square.)2] 

The  first  great  fact  on  which  all  wise  and  enduring  legisla- 
tion respecting  labor  must  be  founded,  is,  that  the  character  of 
men  depends  more  on  their  occupations  than  on  any  teaching 
we  can  give  them,  or  principles  with  which  we  can  imbue 
them. 

The  employment  forms  the  habits  of  body  and  mind,  and 
these  are  the  constitution  of  the  man — the  greater  part  of  his 
moral  or  persistent  nature,  whatever  effort,  under  special 
excitement,  he  may  make  to  change  or  overcome  them.  Em- 
ployment is  the  half,  and  the  primal  half,  of  education — it  is 
the  warp  of  it ;  and  the  fineness  or  the  endurance  of  all  subse- 

1  See  the  following  pages. 

2  There  were  two  editions  of  this  pamphlet.  The  first  was  entitled 
M  First  Notes  on  the  General  Principles  of  Employment  for  the  Destitute 
and  Criminal  Classes.  By  John  Ruskin,  A.M.  For  private  circulation 
only.  1868  "  (pp.  11,  including  the  title-page.  London  :  Strangeways  & 
Walden,  printers,  Castle  Street,  Leicester  Square).  Mr.  Ruskin  enclosed 
the  second  edition  to  the  Daily  Telegraph,  where  almost  the  whole  of  the 
pamphlet  was  reprinted.  The  differences  hetween  the  two  editions  con- 
sisted only  in  one  or  two  additions  in  the  second  (see  below,  pages  321 
and  324,  notes.) 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


319 


quently  woven  pattern  depends  wholly  on  its  straightness  and 
strength.  And  whatever  difficulty  there  may  be  in  tracing 
through  past  history  the  remoter  connections  of  event  and 
cause,  one  chain  of  sequence  is  always  clear :  the  formation, 
namely,  of  the  character  of  nations  by  their  employments,  and 
the  determination  of  their  final  fate  by  their  character.  The 
moment  and  the  first  direction  of  circumstances,  of  decisive 
revolutions,  often  depend  on  accident  ;  but  their  persistent 
course,  and  their  consequences,  depend  wholly  on  the  nature 
of  the  people.  The  passing  of  the  Eeform  Bill  by  the  late 
English  Parliament 1  may  have  been  more  or  less  accidental : 
the  results  of  the  measure  now  rest  on  the  character  of  the 
English  people,  as  it  has  been  developed  by  their  recent  inter- 
ests, occupations,  and  habits  of  life.  Whether  as  a  body,  they 
employ  their  new  powers  for  good  or  evil  will  depend  not  on 
their  facilities  for  knowledge,  nor  even  on  the  general  intelli- 
gence they  may  possess,  but  on  the  number  of  persons  among 
them  whom  wholesome  employments  have  rendered  familiar 
with  the  duties,  and  temperate  in  their  estimate  of  the  prom- 
ises of  life. 

But  especially  in  passing  laws  respecting  the  treatment  or 
employment  of  improvident  and  more  or  less  vicious  persons 
it  is  to  be  remembered  that  as  men  are  not  to  be  made  heroes 
by  an  act  of  heroism,  but  must  be  brave  before  they  can  per- 
form it,  so  they  are  not  made  villains  by  the  commission  of  a 
crime,  but  were  villains  before  they  committed  it ;  and  that 
the  right  of  public  interference  with  their  conduct  begins  when 
they  begin  to  corrupt  themselves,  not  merely  at  the  moment 
when  they  have  proved  themselves  hopelessly  corrupt. 

All  measures  of  reformation  are  effective  in  exact  propor- 
tion to  their  timeliness  :  partial  decay  may  be  cut  away  and 
cleansed ;  incipient  error  corrected ;  but  there  is  a  point  at 
which  corruption  can  no  more  be  stayed,  nor  wandering  re- 
called ;  it  has  been  the  manner  of  modern  philanthropy  to 
remain  passive  until  that  precise  period,  and  to  leave  the  rich 


1  The  reform  bill  of  1867.  The  late  parliament  had  been  dissolved 
on  November  11,  and  the  new  one  had  just  sat  (December  10,  1868). 


320 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


to  perish  and  the  foolish  to  stray,  while  it  exhausted  itself  in 
frantic  exertions  to  raise  the  dead  and  reform  the  dust. 

The  recent  direction  of  a  great  weight  of  public  opinion 
against  capital  punishment  is,  I  think,  the  sign  of  an  awaken- 
ing perception  that  punishment  is  the  last  and  worst  instru- 
ment in  the  hands  of  the  legislature  for  the  prevention  of 
crime. 

The  true  instruments  of  reformation  are  employment  and 
reward — not  punishment.  Aid  the  willing,  honor  the  vir- 
tuous, and  compel  the  idle  into  occupation,  and  there  will  be 
no  need  for  the  compelling  of  any  into  the  great  and  last  indo- 
lence of  death.  The  beginning  of  all  true  reformation  among 
the  criminal  classes  depends  on  the  establishment  of  institu- 
tions for  their  active  employment,  while  their  criminality  is 
still  unripe,  and  their  feelings  of  self-respect,  capacities  of 
affection,  and  sense  of  justice  not  altogether  quenched.  That 
those  who  are  desirous  of  employment  should  be  always  able 
to  find  it,  will  hardly,  at  the  present  day,  be  disputed  ;  but 
that  those  who  are  undesirous  of  employment  should  of  all 
persons  be  the  most  strictly  compelled  to  it,  the  public  are 
hardly  yet  convinced.  If  the  damage  of  the  principal  thorough- 
fares in  their  capital  city,  and  the  multiplication  of  crimes 
more  ghastly  than  ever  yet  disgraced  a  nominal  civilization, 
do  not  convince  them,  they  will  not  have  to  wait  long  before 
they  receive  sterner  lessons.  For  our  neglect  of  the  lower 
orders  has  reached  a  point,  at  which  it  begins  to  bear  its 
necessary  fruit,  and  every  day  makes  the  harvest  darker  and 
more  sure.1 

The  great  principles  by  which  employment  should  be  reg- 
ulated may  be  briefly  stated  as  follows  : 

1.  There  being  three  great  classes  of  mechanical  powers  at 
our  disposal,  namely,  (a)  vital  muscular  power;  (b)  natural 
mechanical  power  of  wind,  water,  and  electricity  ;  and  (c) 
artificially  produced  mechanical  power  ;  it  is  the  first  principle 
of  economy  to  use  all  available  vital  power  first,  then  the  inex- 


1  The  Daily  Telegraph  reprinted  the  pamphlet  from  this  point  to  the 
end. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS.  321 


pensive  natural  forces,  and  only  at  last  to  have  recourse  to 
artificial  power.  And  this,  because  it  is  always  better  for  a 
man  to  work  with  his  own  hands  to  feed  and  clothe  himself, 
than  to  stand  idle  while  a  machine  works  for  him  ;  and  if  he 
cannot  by  all  the  labor  healthily  possible  to  him,  feed  and 
clothe  himself,  then  it  is  better  to  use  an  inexpensive  machine 
— as  a  wind-mill  or  water-mill — than  a  costly  one  like  a  steam- 
engine,  so  long  as  we  have  natural  force  enough  at  our  dis- 
posal. Whereas  at  present  we  continually  hear  economists 
regret  that  the  water-powers  of  the  cascades  or  streams  of  a 
country  should  be  lost,  but  hardly  ever  that  the  muscular 
power  of  its  idle  inhabitants  should  be  lost ;  and,  again,  we 
see  vast  districts,  as  the  south  of  Provence,  where  a  strong 
■wind  1  blows  steady  all  day  long  for  six  days  out  of  seven 
throughout  the  year,  without  a  wind-mill,  while  men  are  con- 
tinually employed  a  hundred  miles  to  the  north,  in  digging 
fuel  to  obtain  artificial  power. 

But  the  principal  point  of  all  to  be  kept  in  view  is  that  in 
every  idle  arm  and  shoulder  throughout  the  country  there  is 
a  certain  quantity  of  force,  equivalent  to  the  force  of  so  much 
fuel ;  and  that  it  is  mere  insane  waste  to  dig  for  coal  for  our 
force,  while  the  vital  force  is  unused  ;  and  not  only  unused, 
but,  in  being  so,  corrupting  and  polluting  itself.  We  waste 
our  coal  and  spoil  our  humanity  at  one  and  the  same  instant. 
Therefore,  whenever  there  is  an  idle  arm,  always  save  coal 
with  it,  and  the  stores  of  England  will  last  all  the  longer. 
And  precisely  the  same  argument  answers  the  common  one 
about  "taking  employment  out  of  the  hands  of  the  industri- 
ous laborer."  Why,  what  is  "  employment  "  but  the  putting 
out  of  vital  force  instead  of  mechanical  force  ?  We  are  con- 
tinually in  search  of  means  of  strength — to  pull,  to  hammer,  to 
fetch,  to  carry  ;  we  waste  our  future  resources  to  get  power, 
while  wre  leave  all  the  living  fuel  to  burn  itself  out  in  mere 

1  In  order  fully  to  utilize  this  natural  power,  we  only  require  ma- 
chinery to  turn  the  variable  into  a  constant  velocity— no  insurmountable 
difficulty.  * 

*  This  note  was  not  contained  in  the  first  edition  of  the  pamphlet,  and  was  not  re- 
printed by  the  Daily  Telegraph, 


322 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


pestiferous  breath  and  production  of  its  variously  noisome 
forms  of  ashes !  Clearly,  if  we  want  fire  for  force,  we  want 
men  for  force  first.  The  industrious  hands  must  have  so  much 
to  do  that  they  can  do  no  more,  or  else  we  need  not  use  ma- 
chines to  help  them  :  then  use  the  idle  hands  first.  Instead 
of  dragging  petroleum  with  a  steam-engine,  put  it  on  a  canal, 
and  drag  it  with  human  arms  and  shoulders.  Petroleum  can- 
not  possibly  be  in  a  hurry  to  arrive  anywhere.  "We  can  always 
order  that  and  many  other  things  time  enough  before  we  want 
it.  So  the  carriage  of  everything  which  does  not  spoil  by 
keeping  may  most  wholesomely  and  safely  be  done  by  water- 
traction  and  sailing  vessels,  and  no  healthier  work  nor  better 
discipline  can  men  be  put  to  than  such  active  porterage. 

2o  In  employing  all  the  muscular  power  at  our  disposal,  we 
are  to  make  the  employments  we  choose  as  educational  as  pos- 
sible. For  a  wholesome  human  employment'  is  the  first  and 
best  method  of  education,  mental  as  well  as  bodily.  A  man 
taught  to  plough,  row  or  steer  well,  and  a  woman  taught  to 
cook  properly  and  make  dress  neatly,  are  already  educated  in 
many  essential  moral  habits.  Labor  considered  as  a  discipline 
has  hitherto  been  thought  of  only  for  criminals  ;  but  the  real 
and  noblest  function  of  labor  is  to  prevent  crime,  and  not  to 
be  -Reformatory  but  Formatory. 

3.  The  third  great  principle  of  employment  is,  that  when- 
ever there  is  pressure  of  poverty  to  be  met,  all  enforced  occu- 
pation should  be  directed  to  the  production  of  useful  articles 
only,  that  is  to  say,  of  food,  of  simple  clothing,  of  lodging,  or 
of  the  means  of  conveying,  distributing,  and  preserving  these. 
It  is  yet  little  understood  by  economists,  and  not  at  all  by  the 
public,  that  the  employment  of  persons  in  a  useless  business 
cannot  relieve  ultimate  distress.  The  money  given  to  employ 
riband -makers  at  Coventry  is  merely  so  much  money  with- 
drawn from  what  would  have  employed  lace-makers  at  Honi- 
ton,  or  makers  of  something  else,  as  useless,  elsewhere.  "We 
must  spend  our  money  in  some  way,  at  some  time,  and  it  can- 
not at  any  time  be  spent  without  employing  somebody.  If 
we  gamble  it  away,  the  person  who  wins  it  must  spend  it ;  if 
we  lose  it  in  a  railroad  speculation,  it  has  gone  into  some  one 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


323 


else's  pockets,  or  merely  gone  to  pay  navvies  for  making  a  use- 
less embankment,  instead  of  to  pay  riband  or  button  makers 
for  making  useless  ribands  or  buttons  ;  we  cannot  lose  it  (un- 
less by  actually  destroying  it)  without  giving  employment  of 
some  kind,  and  therefore,  whatever  quantity  of  money  ex- 
ists, the  relative  quantity  of  employment  must  some  day  come 
out  of  it ;  but  the  distress  of  the  nation  signifies  that  the  em- 
ployments given  have  produced  nothing  that  will  support  its 
existence.  Men  cannot  live  on  ribands,  or  buttons,  or  velvet, 
or  by  going  quickly  from  place  to  place  ;  and  every  coin  spent 
in  useless  ornament,  or  useless  motion,  is  so  much  withdrawn 
from  the  national  means  of  life.  Whereas  every  coin  spent 
in  cultivating  ground,  in  repairing  lodgings,  in  making  neces- 
sary and  good  roads,  in  preventing  danger  by  sea  or  land, 
and  in  carriage  of  food  or  fuel  where  they  are  required,  is  so 
much  absolute  and  direct  gain  to  the  whole  nation.  To  cul- 
tivate land  round  Coventry  makes  living  easier  at  Honiton, 
and  every  house  well  built  in  Edinburgh  makes  lodgings 
cheaper  in  Glasgow  and  London. 

4th,  and  lastly.  Since  for  every  idle  person  some  one  else 
must  be  working  somewhere  to  provide  him  with  clothes  and 
food,  and  doing  therefore  double  the  quantity  of  work  that 
would  be  enough  for  his  own  needs,  it  is  only  a  matter  of  pure 
justice  to  compel  the  idle  person  to  work  for  his  maintenance 
himself.  The  conscription  has  been  used  in  many  countries 
to  take  away  laborers  who  supported  their  families  from  their 
useful  work,  and  maintain  them  for  purposes  chiefly  of  mili- 
tary display  at  public  expense.  Since  this  had  been  long  en- 
dured by  the  most  civilized  nations,  let  it  not  be  thought  that 
they  would  not  much  more  gladly  endure  a  conscription 
which  should  seize  only  the  vicious  and  idle  already  living  by 
criminal  procedures  at  the  public  expense,  and  which  should 
discipline  and  educate  them  to  labor,  which  would  not  only 
maintain  themselves,  but  be  serviceable  to  the  commonwealth. 
The  question  is  simply  this  :  we  must  feed  the  drunkard, 
vagabond,  and  thief.  But  shall  we  do  so  by  letting  them  rob 
us  of  their  food,  and  do  no  work  for  it ;  or  shall  we  give  them 
their  food  in  appointed  quantity,  and  enforce  their  doing  work 


324 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Off  ACE. 


which  shall  be  worth  it,  and  which,  in  process  of  time,  will 
redeem  their  own  characters,  and  make  them  happy  and  ser* 
viceable  members  of  society  ? 1 

The  different  classes  of  wTork  for  which  bodies  of  men  could 
be  consistently  organized  might  ultimately  become  numerous ; 
these  following  divisions  of  occupation  may  at  once  be  sug- 
gested. 

1.  Boad-Making. — Good  roads  to  be  made  wTherever  needed, 
and  kept  in  constant  repair  ;  and  the  annual  loss  on  unfre- 
quented roads  in  spoiled  horses,  strained  wheels,  and  time, 
done  away  with. 

2.  Bringing  in  of  Waste  Land. — All  waste  lands  not  neces- 
sary for  public  health,  to  be  made  accessible  and  gradually 
reclaimed. 

3.  Harbour-Making. — The  deficiencies  of  safe  or  convenient 
harbourage  in  our  smaller  ports  to  be  remedied  ;  other  har- 
bours built  at  dangerous  points  of  coast,  and  a  disciplined 
body  of  men  always  kept  in  connection  with  the  pilot  and  life- 
boat services.  There  is  room  for  every  order  of  intelligence 
in  this  work,  and  for  a  large  body  of  superior  officers. 

4.  Porterage. — All  heavy  goods  not  requiring  speed  in 
transit,  to  be  carried  (under  preventive  duty  on  transit  by 
railroad)  by  canal  boats,  employing  men  for  draught,  and  the 
merchant  shipping  service  extended  by  sea  ;  so  that  no  ships 
may  be  wrecked  for  want  of  hands,  while  there  are  idle  ones 
in  mischief  on  shore. 

5.  Kepair  of  Buildings. — A  body  of  men  in  various  trades 
to  be  kept  at  the  disposal  of  the  authorities  in  every  large  town 
for  consistent  repair  of  buildings,  especially  the  houses  of  the 
poorer  orders,  who,  if  no  such  provision  were  made,  could  not 
employ  workmen  on  their  own  houses,  but  would  simply  live 
with  rent  walls  and  roofs. 

6.  Dress-Making.— Substantial  dress,  of  standard  material 
and  kind,  strong  shoes,  and  stout  bedding,  to  be  manufact- 
ured for  the  poor,  so  as  to  render  it  unnecessary  for  them, 


1  Here  the  first  edition  of  the  pamphlet  ends ;  the  remaining  sentences 
being  contained  in  the  second  edition  only. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


325 


unless  by  extremity  of  improvidence,  to  wear  cast  clothes,  or 
be  without  sufficiency  of  clothing. 

7.  Works  of  Art. — Schools  to  be  established  on  thoroughly 
sound  principles  of  manufacture  and  use  of  materials,  and 
with  simple  and,  for  given  periods,  unalterable  modes  of 
work ;  first  in  pottery,  and  embracing  gradually  metal  work, 
sculpture,  and  decorative  painting ;  the  two  points  insisted 
upon,  in  distinction  from  ordinary  commercial  establishments, 
being  perfectness  of  material  to  the  utmost  attainable  degree  ; 
and  the  production  of  everything  by  hand- work,  for  the  spe- 
cial purpose  of  developing  personal  power  and  skill  in  the 
workman. 

The  two  last  departments,  and  some  subordinate  branches 
of  the  others,  would  include  the  service  of  women  and  chil- 
dren. 


[From  "  The  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,"  conducted  by  the  Young  Men's  Association,  Clapham 
Congregational  Church.    September.  1879.    Vol.  iii.,  No.  12,  p.  242.] 

BLINDNESS  AND  SIGHT.1 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire, 
mh  July,  1879. 

My  dear  Sir  :  The  reason  I  never  answered  was — I  now  find 
— the  difficulty  of  explaining  my  fixed  principle  never  to  join 
in  any  invalid  charities.  All  the  foolish  world  is  ready  to 
help  in  them  ;  and  will  spend  large  incomes  in  trying  to  make 
idiots  think,  and  the  blind  read,  but  will  leave  the  noblest  in- 
tellects to  go  to  the  Devil,  and  the  brightest  eyes  to  remain 
spiritually  blind  forever !  All  my  work  is  to  help  those  wTho 
have  eyes  and  see  not. 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  J.  Buskin. 

Thos.  Pocock,  Esq. 

I  must  add  that,  to  my  mind,  the  prefix  of  "  Protestant w 
to  your  society's  name  indicates  far  stonier  blindness  than  any 
it  will  relieve. 

1  This  letter  was  sent  by  Mr.  Ruskin  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Protestant 
Blind  Pension  Society  in  answer  to  an  application  for  subscriptions 
which  Mr.  Ruskin  had  mislaid,  and  thus  left  unanswered. 


326 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


[From  "  The  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,"  October,  1879,  Vol.  iv.,  No.  1,  p.  12.) 

THE  EAGLE'S  NEST.' 

To  the  Editor  of  "  Tlie  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine" 

My  dear  Sir  :  There  is  a  mass  of  letters  on  my  table  this 
morning,  and  I  am  not  quite  sure  if  the  "  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine," 
among  them,  is  the  magazine  which  yours  of  the  15th  speaks 
of  as  "  enclosed  ;  "  but  you  are  entirely  welcome  to  print  my 
letter  about  Blind  Asylums  anywhere,  and  if  in  the  "Y.  M. 
A."  I  should  be  glad  to  convey  to  its  editor,  at  the  same 
time,  my  thanks  for  the  article  on  "  Growing  Old,"  which  has 
not  a  little  comforted  me  this  morning — and  my  modest 
recommendation  that,  by  way  of  antidote  to  the  No.  III.  paper 
on  the  Sun,  he  should  reproduce  the  104th,  115th,  and  116th 
paragraphs  of  my  ££  Eagle's  Nest,"  closing  them  with  this  fol- 
lowing sentence  from  the  12th  Book  of  the  Laws  of  Plato, 
dictating  the  due  time  for  the  sittings  of  a  Parliament  seeking 
righteous  policy  (and  composed,  they  may  note  farther,  for 
such  search,  of  Young  Men  and  Old) : 

€KttcrT^5  fxkv  f}fjLepa<;  avWeyofxevos  i£  dvdyKrjs  air  opOpov  ^XPL 
irep  av  r/Xios  (xvlvyrj. 

Ever  faithfully  yours,  J.  Buskin. 
Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire,  August  VJth9  1879. 


[From  uThe  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,"  November,  1879,  Vol.  iv.,  No.  2,  p.  36.] 

POLITICS  IN  YOUTH. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine." 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  heartily  obliged  by  your  publication  of 
those  pieces  of  "  Eagle's  Nest,"  and  generally  interested  in 
your  Magazine,  papers  on  politics  excepted.    Young  men  have 

1  The  article  on  44  Growing  Old,"  (Y.  M.  A.,  August,  1879)  was  "  a  study 
from  the  poets  "  on  happiness  in  old  age ;  that  upon  the  sun,  contained 
in  the  same  number  of  the  magazine,  dealt  with  the  spots  in  the  sun, 
and  the  various  scientific  opinions  about  them ;  the  paragraphs  re- 
printed from  the  Eagle's  Nest  are  upon  the  sun  as  the  Light,  and 
Health,  and  Guide  of  Life. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


327 


no  business  with  politics  at  all ;  and  when  the  time  is  come 
for  them  to  have  opinions,  they  will  find  all  political  parties 
resolve  themselves  at  last  into  two — that  which  holds  with 
Solomon,  that  a  rod  is  for  the  fool's  back,1  and  that  which 
holds  with  the  fool  himself,  that  a  crown  is  for  his  head,  a 
vote  for  his  mouth,  and  all  the  universe  for  his  belly. 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

(Signed)       J.  Ruskin. 

The  song  on  "  Life's  Mid-day  I  is  very  beautiful,  except  the 
third  stanza.  The  river  of  God  will  one  day  sweep  down  the 
great  city,  not  feed  it.2 

Sheffield,  October  19th,  1879. 


[From  the  t;New  Year's  Address  and  Messages  to  Blackfriars  Bible  Class." 
Aberdeen,  1873.] 

"  ACT,  ACT  IN  THE  LIVING  PRESENT."  3 

Cokpus  Christi  College,  Oxford, 
Christmas  Eve,  '72. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  always  much  interested  in  any  effort 
such  as  you  are  making  on  the  part  of  the  laity. 

If  you  care  to  give  your  class  a  word  directly  from  me,  say 
to  them  that  they  will  find  it  well,  throughout  life,  never  to 
trouble  themselves  about  what  they  ought  not  to  do,  but  about 
what  they  ought  to  do.    The  condemnation  given  from  the 

1  Proverbs  xxvi.  3,  and  x.  13. 

2  The  following  are  the  lines  specially  alluded  to : 

Shall  the  strong  full-flowing  river,  bearing  on  its  mighty  breast 

Half  the  wealth  of  some  proud  nation,  precious  spoils  of  East  and  West, 

Shall  it  mourn  its  mountain  cradle  and  its  infant  heathery  bed, 

All  its  youthful  songs  and  dances,  as  adown  the  hills  it  sped, 

When  by  it  in  yon  great  city  half  a  million  mouths  are  fed  ? 

[Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,  October,  1879.] 

3  This  and  the  two  following  letters  were  originally  printed  in  differ- 
ent annual  numbers  of  the  above-named  publication,  to  whose  editor 
(Mr.  John  Leith,  75  Crown  Street,  Aberdeen)  they  were  addressed. 
Amongst  the  "  messages  "  contained  in  them  are  some  from  Mr.  Glad- 
stone and  others. 


328 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Oil  ACE. 


judgment  throne — most  solemnly  described — is  all  for  the 
undones  and  not  for  the  dones.1  People  are  perpetually  afraid 
of  doing  wrong  ;  but  unless  they  are  doing  its  reverse  ener- 
getically, they  do  it  all  day  long,  aod  the  degree  does  not 
matter.  The  Commandments  are  necessarily  negative,  be- 
cause a  new  set  of  positive  ones  would  be  needed  for  every 
person  :  while  the  negatives  are  constant. 

But  Christ  sums  them  all  into  two  rigorous  positions,  and 
the  first  position  for  young  people  is  active  and  attentive  kind- 
ness to  animals,  supposing  themselves  set  by  God  to  feed  His 
real  sheep  and  ravens  before  the  time  comes  for  doing  either 
figuratively.  There  is  scarcely  any  conception  left  of  the 
character  which  animals  and  birds  might  have  if  kindly  treated 
in  a  wild  state. 

Make  your  young  hearers  resolve  to  be  honest  in  their  work 
in  this  life. — Heaven  will  take  care  of  them  for  the  other. 

Truly  yours, 

John  Buskin. 


(From  "  New  Year's  Address  and  Messages  to  Blackfriars  Bible  Class." 
Aberdeen,  1874.] 

"LABORARE  EST  ORARE." 

Corpus  Curisti  College,  Oxford, 

Deceiriber,  1873. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  should  much  like  to  send  your  class  some 
message,  but  have  no  time  for  anything  I  like. 

My  own  constant  cry  to  all  Bible  readers  is  a  very  simple 
one — Don't  think  that  Nature  (human  or  other)  is  corrupt ; 
don't  think  that  you  yourself  are  elect  out  of  it ;  and  don't 
think  to  serve  God  by  praying  instead  of  obeying. 
Ever,  my  dear  Sir,  very  faithfully  yours, 

John  Ruskin. 


1  See  the  tenth  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  letters  on  the  Lord's  Prayer,  Contem- 
porary Review,  December,  1879,  p.  550. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


329 


[From  "  New  Year's  Address,"  etc.  (as  above),  1878.] 

A  PAGAN  MESSAGE, 

Herne  Hill,  London,  S.E. 
19  Dee.  1877. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  sure  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  the  best 
message  for  any  of  your  young  men  who  really  are  trying  to 
read  their  Bibles  is  whatever  they  first  chance  to  read  on  what- 
ever morning. 

But  here's  a  Pagan  message  for  them,  which  will  be  a 
grandly  harmonized  bass  for  whatever  words  they  get  on  the 
New  Year. 

Inter  spem  curamque,  timores  et  inter  iras, 
Omnem  crede  diem  tibi  diluxisse  supremum.1 

("  Amid  liope  and  sorrow,  amid  fear  and  wrath,  believe  every  day  that 
has  dawned  on  thee  to  be  thy  last.") 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

John  Buskin. 

[From  "  The  Science  of  Life."] 

THE  FOUNDATIONS  OF  CHIVALRY* 

Venice,  February  8t7i,  1877. 

My  dear  :  This  is  a  nobly  done  piece  of  work  of  yours 

— a  fireman's  duty  in  fire  of  hell  ;  and  I  would  fain  help  you 
in  all  I  could,  but  my  way  of  going  at  the  thing  would  be 
from  the  top  down — putting  the  fire  out  with  the  sun,  not 
with  vain  sprinklings.    People  would  say  I  wasn't  practical, 

1  Horace,  Epistles,  i.  4.  12. 

2  The  following  letters  were  addressed  by  Mr.  Ruskin  to  the  author 
of  a  pamphlet  on  continence,  entitled  The  Science  of  Life.  There  were 
two  editions  of  the  pamphlet,  and  of  these  only  the  second  contained 
the  first  and  last  of  these  letters,  whilst  only  the  first  contained  the  last 
letter  but  one.  Some  passages  also  in  the  other  letters  are  omitted  in 
the  first  edition,  and  a  few  slight  alterations  arc  iuad«  in  the  seeond  in 
the  letter  of  February  10. 


330 


ARROWS  OF  TEE  GRACE. 


as  usual  of  course  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  the  last  thing  one 
should  do  in  the  business  is  to  play  Lord  Angelo,  and  set  bar 
and  door  to  deluge.  Not  but  I  should  sift  the  windows  of  our 
Oxford  printsellers,  if  I  had  my  full  way  in  my  Art  Professor- 
ship ;  but  I  can't  say  the  tenth  part  of  what  I  would.  I'm  in 
the  very  gist  and  main  effort  of  quite  other  work,  and  can't 
get  my  mind  turned  to  this  rightly,  for  this,  in  the  heart  of 
it,  involves — well,  to  say  the  whole  range  of  moral  philoso- 
phy, is  nothing  ;  this,  in  the  heart  of  it,  one  can't  touch 
unless  one  knew  the  moral  philosophy  of  angels  also,  and 
what  that  means,  "but  are  as  the  angels  in  heaven."  For 
indeed  there  is  no  true  conqueror  of  Lust  but  Love  ;  and 
in  this  beautifully  scientific  day  of  the  British  nation,  in  which 
you  have  no  God  to  love  any  more,  but  only  an  omnipotent 
coagulation  of  copulation  :  in  which  you  have  no  Law  nor 
King  to  love  any  more,  but  only  a  competition  and  a  con- 
stitution, and  the  oil  of  anointing  for  king  and  priest  used 
to  grease  your  iron  wheels  down  hill :  when  you  have  no 
country  to  love  any  more,  but  "patriotism  is  nationally  what 
selfishness  is  individually,"  1  such  the  eternally-damned  mod- 
ern view  of  the  matter — the  moral  syphilis  of  the  entire  na- 
tional blood  :  and,  finally,  when  you  have  no  true  bride  and 
groom  to  love  each  other  any  more,  but  a  girl  looking  out  for 
a  carriage  and  a  man  for  a  position,  what  have  you  left  on 
earth  to  take  pleasure  in,  except  theft  and  adultery  ? 

The  two  great  vices  play  into  each  other's  hands.  Ill-got 
money  is  always  finally  spent  on  the  harlot.  Look  at  Ho- 
garth's two  'prentices  ;  the  sum  of  social  wisdom  is  in  that  bit 
of  rude  art- work,  if  one  reads  it  solemnly. 

Venice,  February  10th. 
Hence,  if  from  any  place  in  earth,  I  ought  to  be  able  to 
send  you  some  words  of  warning  to  English  youths,  for  the 
ruin  of  this  mighty  city  was  all  in  one  word — fornication. 

1  For  further  notice  by  Mr.  Ruskin  of  this  maxim,  which  occurs  in 
Mr.  Herbert  Spencer's  Study  of  Sociology,  p.  205,  see  the  article  on 
Home  and  its  Economies  in  the  Contemporary  Review  of  May,  1873,  and 
Bibliotheca  Pastorum,  p.  xxxiv. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


331 


Fools  who  think  they  can  write  history  will  tell  you  it  was 
"  the  discovery  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,"  and  the  like ! 
Alas  it  was  indeed  the  covering  of  every  hope  she  had,  in  God 
and  his  Law. 

For  indeed,  my  dear  friend,  I  doubt  if  you  can  fight  this 
evil  by  mere  heroism  and  common-sense.  Not  many  men  are 
heroes  ;  not  many  are  rich  in  common-sense.  They  will  train 
for  a  boat-race  ;  will  they  for  the  race  of  life  ?  For  the  ap- 
plause of  the  pretty  girls  in  blue  on  the  banks  ;  yes.  But  to 
win  the  soul  and  body  of  a  noble  woman  for  their  own  for- 
ever, will  they?  Not  as  things  are  going,  I  think,  though 
how  or  where  they  are  to  go  or  end  is  to  me  at  present  in- 
conceivable. 

You  think,  perhaps,  I  could  help  you  therefore  writh  a  lec- 
ture on  good  taste  and  Titian  ?  No,  not  at  all ;  I  might  wTith 
one  on  politics,  but  that  everybody  would  say  was  none  of  my 
business.  Yet  to  understand  the  real  meaning  of  the  word 
"Sire,"  with  respect  to  the  rider  as  well  as  the  horse,  is  indeed 
the  basis  of  all  knowledge,  in  policy,  chivalry,  and  social  order. 

All  that  you  have  advised  and  exposed  is  wisely  said  and 
bravely  told  ;  but  no  advice,  no  exposure,  will  be  of  use,  un- 
til the  right  relation  exists  again  between  the  father  and  the 
mother  and  their  son.  To  deserve  his  confidence,  to  keep  it 
as  the  chief  treasure  committed  in  trust  to  them  by  God  :  to 
be  the  father  his  strength,  the  mother  his  sanctification,  and 
both  his  chosen  refuge,  through  all  weakness,  evil,  danger, 
and  amazement  of  his  young  life.  My  friend,  while  you  still 
teach  in  Oxford  the  "  philosophy,"  forsooth,  of  that  poor  cre- 
tinous wretch,  Stuart  Mill,  and  are  endeavouring  to  open  other 
"careers"  to  English  women  than  that  of  the  Wife  and  the 
Mother,  you  won't  make  your  men  chaste  by  recommending 
them  to  leave  off  tea.1 

1  I  have  to  state  that  this  expression  regarding  Stuart  Mill  was  not 
intended  for  separate  publication  ;  and  to  explain  that  in  a  subsequent 
but  unpublished  letter  Mr.  Ruskin  explained  it  to  refer  to  Mill's  utter 
deficiency  in  the  powers  of  the  imagination. — The  last  words  of  this 
letter  will  be  made  clearer  by  noting  that  the  pamphlet  dealt  with 
physical,  as  well  as  mental,  diet. 


332 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE, 


Venice,  11  th  February. 

My  dear  :  I  would  say  much  more,  if  I  thought  any 

one  would  believe  me,  of  the  especial  calamity  of  this  time, 
with  respect  to  the  discipline  of  youth — in  having  no  food 
any  more  to  offer  to  their  imagination.  Military  distinction 
is  no  more  possible  by  prowess,  and  the  young  soldier  thinks 
of  the  hurdle-race  as  one  of  the  lists  and  the  field — but  the 
noble  temper  will  not  train  for  that  trial  with  equal  joy.  Cler- 
ical eminence — the  bishopric  or  popular  pastorship — may  be 
tempting  to  men  of  genial  pride  or  sensitive  conceit :  but  the 
fierce  blood  that  would  have  burned  into  a  patriarch,  or 
lashed  itself  into  a  saint — what  "  career  "has  your  modern 
philosophy  to  offer  to  it  f 

The  entire  cessation  of  all  employment  for  the  faculty, 
which,  in  the  best  men  of  former  ages,  was  continually  exer- 
cised and  satisfied  in  the  realization  of  the  presence  of  Christ 
with  the  hosts  of  Heaven,  leaves  the  part  of  the  brain  which 
it  employed  absolutely  vacant,  and  ready  to  suck  in,  with  the 
avidity  of  vacuum,  whatever  pleasantness  may  be  presented 
to  the  natural  sight  in  the  gas-lighted  beauty  of  pantomimic 
and  casino  Paradise. 

All  these  disadvantages,  you  will  say,  are  inevitable,  and 
need  not  be  dwelt  upon.  In  my  own  school  of  St.  George  I 
mean  to  avoid  them  by  simply  making  the  study  of  Christianity 
a  true  piece  of  intellectual  work  ;  my  boys  shall  at  least 
know  what  their  fathers  believed,  before  they  make  up  their 
own  wise  minds  to  disbelieve  it.  They  shall  be  infidels,  if 
they  choose,  at  thirty ;  but  only  students,  and  very  modest 
ones,  at  fifteen.  But  I  shall  at  least  ask  of  modern  science  so 
much  help  as  shall  enable  me  to  begin  to  teach  them  at  that 
age  the  physical  laws  relating  to  their  own  bodies,  openly, 
thoroughly,  and  with  awe  ;  and  of  modern  civilization,  I  shall 
ask  so  much  help  as  may  enable  me  to  teach  them  what  is  iflk 
deed  right,  and  what  wrong,  for  the  citizen  of  a  state  of  nobie 
humanity  to  do,  and  permit  to  be  done,  by  others,  unac- 
cused. 

And  if  you  can  found  two  such  chairs  in  Oxford — one,  of 
the  Science  of  Physical  Health  ;  the  other,  of  the  Law  of 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


333 


Human  Honor — you  need  not  trim  your  Horace,  nor  forbid 
us  our  chatty  afternoon  tea. 

I  could  say  ever  so  much  more,  of  course,  if  there  were 
only  time,  or  if  it  would  be  of  any  use — about  the  misappli- 
ance  of  the  imagination.  But  really,  the  essential  thing  is  the 
founding  of  real  schools  of  instruction  for  both  boys  and  girls 
— first,  in  domestic  medicine  and  all  that  it  means  ;  and  sec- 
ondly, in  the  plain  moral  law  of  all  humanity  :  "Thou  shait 
not  commit  adultery,"  with  all  that  it  means. 

Ever  most  truly  yours, 

J.  RuSKIN. 

Venice,  12th  February,  '77. 

My  dear  :  Two  words  more,  and  an  end.    I  have  just 

re-read  the  paper  throughout.  There  are  two  omissions  which 
seem  to  me  to  need  serious  notice. 

The  first,  that  the  entire  code  of  counsel  which  you  have 
drawn  up,  as  that  which  a  father  should  give  his  son,  must  be 
founded  on  the  assumption  that,  at  the  proper  time  of  life,  the 
youth  will  be  able,  no  less  than  eager,  to  marry.  You  ought 
certainly  to  point  out,  incidentally,  what  in  my  St.  George's 
work  I  am  teaching  primarily,  that  unless  this  first  economical 
condition  of  human  society  be  secured,  all  props  and  plasters 
of  its  morality  will  be  in  vain. 

And  in  the  second  place,  you  have  spoken  too  exclusively 
of  Lust,  as  if  it  were  the  normal  condition  of  sexual  feeling, 
and  the  only  one  properly  to  be  called  sexual.  But  the  great 
relation  of  the  sexes  is  Love,  not  Lust ;  that  is  the  relation  in 
which  "  male  and  female  created  He  them  ; "  putting  into 
them,  indeed,  to  be  distinctly  restrained  to  the  office  of  fruit- 
fulness,  the  brutal  passion  of  Lust :  but  giving  them  the 
spiritual  power  of  Love,  that  each  spirit  might  be  greater  and 
purer  by  its  bond  to  another  associate  spirit,  in  this  world,  and 
that  which  is  to  come  ;  help-mates,  and  sharers  of  each  other's 
joy  forever.  Ever  most  truly  yours, 

J.  Buskin. 

Malham,  July  3d,  1878. 

Dear  :  I  wish  I  were  able  to  add  a  few  more  words, 

with  energy  and  clearness,  to  my  former  letters,  respecting  a 


334 


ARROWS  OF  THE  Gil  A  CM 


subject  of  which  my  best  strength — though  in  great  part  lately 
given  to  it,  has  not  yet  enforced  the  moment — the  function, 
namely,  of  the  arts  of  music  and  dancing  as  leaders  and  gov- 
ernors of  the  bodily,  and  instinctive  mental,  passions.  No 
nation  will  ever  bring  up  its  youth  to  be  at  once  refined  and 
pure,  till  its  masters  have  learned  the  use  of  all  the  arts,  and 
primarily  of  these  ;  till  they  again  recognize  the  gulf  that 
separates  the  Doric  and  Lydian  modes,  and  perceive  the  great 
ordinance  of  Nature,  that  the  pleasures  which,  rightly  ordered, 
exalt,  discipline,  and  guide  the  hearts  of  men,  if  abandoned  to 
a  reckless  and  popular  Dis-order,  as  surely  degrade,  scatter, 
and  deceive  alike  the  passions  and  intellect. 

I  observe  in  the  journals  of  yesterday,  announcement  that 
the  masters  of  many  of  our  chief  schools  are  at  last  desirous  of 
making  the  elements  of  Greek  art  one  of  the  branches  of  their 
code  of  instruction  :  but  that  they  imagine  such  elements  may 
be  learned  from  plaster  casts  of  elegant  limbs  and  delicate 
noses. 

They  will  find  that  Greek  art  can  only  be  learned  from 
Greek  law,  and  from  the  religion  which  gives  law  of  life  to  all 
the  nations  of  the  earth.  Let  our  youth  once  more  learn  the 
meaning  of  the  words  "  music,"  "  chorus, "  and  "  hymn  "  prac- 
tically ;  and  with  the  understanding  that  all  such  practice, 
from  lowest  to  highest,  is,  if  rightly  done,  always  in  the  pres- 
ence and  to  the  praise  of  God  ;  and  we  shall  have  gone  far  to 
shield  them  in  a  noble  peace  and  glorious  safety  from  the 
darkest  questions  and  the  foulest  sins  that  have  perplexed  and 
consumed  the  youth  of  past  generations  for  the  last  four  hun- 
dred years. 

Have  you  ever  heard  the  charity  children  sing  in  St.  Paul's  ? 
Suppose  we  sometimes  allowed  God  the  honor  of  seeing  our 
noble  children  collected  in  like  manner  to  sing  to  Him,  what 
think  you  might  be  the  effect  of  such  a  festival — even  if  only 
held  once  a  year — on  the  national  manners  and  hearts  ? 

Ever  faithfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

J.  EUSKIN. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS, 


335 


V.—WOMEN :  THEIR  WORK  AND  THEIR  DRESS. 

[From  "  L'Esperance,  Journel  Merisuel,  organe  de  l1  Association  des  FemmeB."  Geneve, 

le  8  Mai,  1873.] 

WOMAN'S  WORK 
Lettre  a  la  Presidente.1 

Ma  chere  Madame  :  Je  vous  remercie  de  votre  lettre  si  in- 
teressante,  car  je  sympathise  de  tout  mou  coeur  avec  la  plu- 
part  des  sentiments  et  des  soubaits  que  vous  y  exprimez. 
Mais  arriver  a  rendre  des  femmes  plus  nobles  et  plus  sages  est 
une  chose  ;  les  clever  de  facon  a  ce  qu'elles  entretiennent 
leurs  maris  est  une  autre  ! 

Je  ne  puis  trouver  des  termes  assez  forts  pour  exprimer  la 
haine  et  le  mepris  que  je  ressens  pour  Tidce  moderne  qu'une 
femme  doit  cesser  d'etre  mere,  nlle,  ou  femme  pour  qu'elle 
puisse  devenir  commis  ou  ingenieur. 

Vous  ctes  toutes  entitlement  sottes  dans  cette  matiere.  Le 
devoir  d'un  homme  est  d'entretenir  sa  femme  et  ses  enfants, 
celui  d'une  femme  est  de  le  rendre  heureux  chez  lui,  et 
d'elever  ses  enfants  sagement.  Aucune  femme  n'est  capable 
de  faire  plus  que  cela.  Aucune  femme  ne  doit  faire  moins, 
et  un  homme  qui  ne  peut  pas  nourrir  sa  femme,  et  desire 
qu'elle  travaille  pour  lui,  merite  d'etre  pendu  au-dessus  de  sa 
porte. 

Je  suis,  Madame,  fidelement  a  vous, 

J.  RUSKIN. 

[Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown.] 

FEMALE  FRANCHISE. 

Venice,  29th  May,  1870, 
Sir  :  I  am  obliged  by  your  note.    I  have  no  time  for  private 
correspondence  at  present,  but  you  are  quite  right  in  your 

1 1  have  been  unable  to  get  access  to  the  paper  from  which  this  letter 
is  taken,  and  must  therefore  leave  without  explanation  the  fortunately 
unimportant  references  in  its  first  paragraph 


336 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CH ACE. 


supposition  as  to  my  views  respecting  female  franchise.  So 
far  from  wishing  to  give  votes  to  women,  I  would  fain  take 
them  away  from  most  men.1 

Very  sincerely  yours, 

J.  RUSKIN. 


[From  "The  Monthly  Packet,"  November,  1863,  p,  556.] 

PROVERBS  ON  RIGHT  DRESS* 

Geneva,  October  20th,  1862. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  much  obliged  by  your  letter  :  pardon 
me  if  for  brevity's  sake  I  answer  with  appearance  of  dogma- 
tism. You  will  see  the  subject  treated  as  fully  as  I  am  able 
in  the  course  of  the  papers  on  political  economy,  of  which  the 
two  first  have  already  appeared  in  Fraser's  Magazine? 

The  man  and  woman  are  meant  by  God  to  be  perfectly 
noble  and  beautiful  in  each  other's  eyes.  The  dress  is  right 
which  makes  them  so.  The  best  dress  is  that  which  is  beau- 
tiful in  the  eyes  of  noble  and  wise  persons. 

Right  dress  is  therefore  that  which  is  fit  for  the  station  in 
life,  and  the  work  to  be  done  in  it  ;  and  which  is  otherwise 
graceful — becoming — lasting — healthful — and  easy  ;  on  occa- 
sion, splendid  ;  always  as  beautiful  as  possible. 

Right  dress  is  therefore  strong — simple — radiantly  clean — 
carefully  put  on — carefully  kept. 

Cheap  dress,  bought  for  cheapness  sake,  and  costly  dress 
bought  for  costliness  sake,  are  both  abominations.  Right 

1  So  also  in  writing  an  excuse  for  absence  from  a  lecture  upon 
Woman's  Work  and  Woman's  Sphere,  given  on  behalf  of  the  French 
female  refugees  by  Miss  Emily  Faithfull  in  February,  1871,  Mr.  Ruskin 
said:  "I  most  heartily  sympathize  with  you  in  your  purpose  of  de- 
fining woman's  work  and  sphere.  It  is  as  refreshing  as  the  dew's,  and 
as  defined  as  the  moon's,  but  it  is  not  the  rain's  nor  the  sun's."  (Daily 
Telegraph,  Feb.  21,  1871.) 

2  The  preceding  numbers  of  the  Monthly  Packet  had  contained  various 
letters  upon  dress,  and  the  present  one  was  then  sent  to  the  Editor  by 
the  person  to  whom  it  was  originally  addressed. 

3  In  June  and  September,  1863.  See  the  first  two  chapters  of  Munera 
Pulveris. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


337 


dress  is  bought  for  its  worth,  and  at  its  worth  ;  and  bought 
only  when  wanted. 

Beautiful  dress  is  chiefly  beautiful  in  color — in  harmony  of 
parts — and  in  mode  of  putting  on  and  wearing.  Rightness 
of  mind  is  in  nothing  more  shown  than  in  the  mode  of  wear- 
ing simple  dress. 

Ornamentation  involving  design,  such  as  embroidery,  etc., 
produced  solely  by  industry  of  hand,  is  highly  desirable  in  the 
state  dresses  of  all  classes,  down  to  the  lowest  peasantry. 

National  costume,  wisely  adopted  and  consistently  worn,  is 
not  only  desirable  but  necessary  in  right  national  organiza- 
tion. Obeying  fashion  is  a  great  folly,  and  a  greater  crime ; 
but  gradual  changes  in  dress  properly  accompany  a  healthful 
national  development. 

The  Scriptural  authority  for  dress  is  centralized  by  Proverbs 
xxxi.  21,  22  ;  and  by  1  Samuel  i.  24  ;  the  latter  especially 
indicating  the  duty  of  the  king  or  governor  of  the  state  ;  as 
the  former  the  duty  of  the  housewife.  It  is  necessary  for  the 
complete  understanding  of  those  passages,  that  the  reader 
should  know  that  "  scarlet"  means  intense  central  radiance  of 
pure  color  ;  it  is  the  type  of  purest  color — between  pale  and 
dark — between  sad  and  gay.  It  was  therefore  used  with 
hyssop  as  a  type  of  purification.  There  are  many  stronger 
passages,  such  as  Psalm  xlv.  13,  14 ;  but  as  some  people  read 
them  under  the  impression  of  their  being  figurative,  I  need 
not  refer  to  them.  The  passages  in  the  Prophecies  and 
Epistles  against  dress  apply  only  to  its  abuses.  Dress  worn 
for  the  sake  of  vanity,  or  coveted  in  jealousy,  is  as  evil  as  any- 
thing else  similarly  so  abused.  A  woman  should  earnestly 
desire  to  be  beautiful,  as  she  should  desire  to  be  intelligent  ; 
her  dress  should  be  as  studied  as  her  words ;  but  if  the  one 
is  worn  or  the  other  spoken  in  vanity  or  insolence,  both  are 
equally  criminal. 

I  have  not  time,  and  there  is  no  need,  to  refer  you  to  the 
scattered  notices  of  dress  in  my  books  :  the  most  important  is 
rather  near  the  beginning  of  my  "Political  Economy  of  Art ; "  1 

1  See  pp.  67-75  of  the  original,  and  50-55  of  the  new  edition  (A  Joy 
for  Ever). 


338 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


but  I  have  not  the  book  by  me  :  if  you  make  any  use  of  this 
letter  (you  may  make  any  you  please),  I  should  like  you  to 
add  that  passage  to  it,  as  it  refers  to  the  more  immediate  need 
of  economy  in  dress,  when  the  modes  of  its  manufacture  are 
irregular,  and  cause  distress  to  the  operative. 

Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  very  faithfully  yours, 

J.  KUSKIN. 


[From  "  Macmillan's  Magazine,1'  November,  1870,  p.  80.] 

SAB- COLORED  COSTUMES. 

Denmark  Hill,  S.E.,  Uth  Oct.,  1870. 
To  the  Editor  of  "Macmillan's  Magazine.'" 

Sir  :  At  p.  423  of  your  current  number,  Mr.  Stopford  A. 
Brooke  states  that  it  is  a  proposal  of  mine  for  regenerating 
the  country,  that  the  poor  should  be  "  dressed  all  in  one  sad- 
colored  costume." 1 

It  is,  indeed,  too  probable  that  one  sad-colored  costume 
may  soon  be  "your  only  wear,"  instead  of  the  present  motley 
— for  both  poor  and  rich.  But  the  attainment  of  this  monot- 
ony was  never  a  proposition  of  mine  ;  and  as  I  am  well  aware 
Mr.  Brooke  would  not  have  been  guilty  of  misrepresentation, 
if  he  had  had  time  to  read  the  books  he  was  speaking  of,  I  am 
sure  he  will  concur  in  my  request  that  you  would  print  in 
full  the  passages  to  which  he  imagined  himself  to  be  refer- 
ring. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

John  Kuskin. 

1.  "  You  ladies  like  to  lead  the  fashion:  by  all  means  lead 
it.  Lead  it  thoroughly.  Lead  it  far  enough.  Dress  your- 
selves nicely,  and  dress  everybody  else  nicely.    Lead  the  f ash- 

1  Mr.  Stopford  Brooke's  article  was  a  review  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  Lectures 
on  Art,  delivered  at  Oxford,  and  then  recently  published.  In  a  note  to 
the  present  letter  the  Editor  of  the  Magazine  stated  Mr.  Brooke's  regret 
"at  having  been  led  by  a  slip  of  memory  into  making  an  inaccurate 
statement." 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


339 


ions  for  the  poor  first ;  make  them  look  well,  and  you  your- 
selves will  look — in  ways  of  which  you  have  at  present  no 
conception— all  the  better."—"  Crown  of  Wild  Olive  "  (18G6), 
p.  18.1 

2.  "  In  the  simplest  and  clearest  definition  of  it,  economy, 
whether  public  or  private,  means  the  wise  management  of 
labor  ;  and  it  means  this  mainly  in  three  senses  :  namely,  first, 
applying  your  labor  rationally  ;  secondly,  preserving  its  prod- 
uce carefully  ;  lastly,  distributing  its  produce  seasonably. 

"  I  say  first,  applying  your  labor  rationally  ;  that  is,  so  as 
to  obtain  the  most  precious  things  you  can,  and  the  most 
lasting  things  by  it :  not  growing  oats  in  land  where  you  can 
grow  wheat,  nor  putting  fine  embroidery  on  a  stuff  that  will 
not  wear.  Secondly,  preserving  its  produce  carefully  ;  that  is 
to  say,  laying  up  your  wheat  wisely  in  storehouses  for  the 
time  of  famine,  and  keeping  your  embroidery  watchfully  from 
the  moth ;  and  lastly,  distributing  its  produce  seasonably ; 
that  is  to  say,  being  able  to  carry  your  corn  at  once  to  the 
place  where  the  people  are  hungry,  and  your  embroideries  to 
the  places  where  they  are  gay  ;  so  fulfilling  in  all  ways  the 
wise  man's  description,  whether  of  the  queenly  housewife  or 
queenly  nation  :  -  She  riseth  while  it  is  yet  night,  and  giveth 
meat  to  her  household,  and  a  portion  to  her  maidens.  She 
maketh  herself  coverings  of  tapestry,  her  clothing  is  silk  and 
purple.  Strength  and  honor  are  in  her  clothing,  and  she  shall 
rejoice  in  time  to  come/ 

"Now  you  will  observe  that  in  this  description  of  the  per- 
fect economist,  or  mistress  of  a  household,  there  is  a  studied 
expression  of  the  balanced  division  of  her  care  between  the 
two  great  objects  of  utility  and  splendor :  in  her  right  hand, 
food  and  flax,  for  life  and  clothing ;  in  her  left  hand,  the 
purple  and  the  needlework,  for  honor  and  for  beauty.  .  .  . 
And  in  private  and  household  economy  you  may  always  judge 
of  its  perfectness  by  its  fair  balance  between  the  use  and  the 
pleasure  of  its  possessions :  you  will  see  the  wise  cottager's 
garden  trimly  divided  between  its  well-set  vegetables  and  its 


1  See  the  1873  edition  of  the  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,  p.  30,  §  27, 


340 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CIIACE. 


fragrant  flowers :  you  will  see  the  good  housewife  taking 
pride  in  her  pretty  tablecloth  and  her  glittering  shelves,  no 
less  than  in  her  well-dressed  dish  and  full  store-room  :  the 
care  will  alternate  with  gayety  ;  and  though  you  will  rever- 
ence her  in  her  seriousness,  you  will  know  her  best  by  her 
smile."—  "Political  Economy  of  Art"  (1857),  pp.  10-13.1 


[From  "  The  Times,1'  October  24,  1862.] 

OAK  SILKWORMS. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  Tlie  Times." 

Sir  :  In  your  excellent  article  of  October  17,  on  possible 
substitutes  for  cotton,  you  say  "it  is  very  doubtful  whether 
we  could  introduce  the  silkworm  with  profit."  The  silkworm 
of  the  mulberry  tree,  indeed,  requires  a  warmer  climate  than 
ours,  but  has  attention  yet  been  directed  to  the  silkworm  of 
the  oak  ?  A  day  or  two  ago  a  physician  of  European  reputa- 
tion, Dr.  L.  A.  Gosse,  was  speaking  to  me  of  the  experiments 
recently  made  in  France  in  its  acclimatization.  He  stated  to 
me  that  the  only  real  difficulty  was  temporary — namely,  in 
the  importation  of  the  eggs,  which  are  prematurely  hatched 
as  they  are  brought  through  warm  latitudes.  A  few  only  have 
reached  Europe,  and  their  multiplication  is  slow,  but  once  let 
them  be  obtained  in  quantity  and  the  stripping  of  an  oak 
coppice  is  both  robe  and  revenue.  The  silk  is  stronger  than 
that  of  the  mulberry  tree,  and  the  stuff  woven  of  it  more 
healthy  than  cotton  stuffs  for  the  wearer ;  it  also  wears  twice 
as  long.  This  is  Dr.  Gosse's  report — likely  to  be  a  trust- 
worthy one — at  all  events,  it  seems  to  me  worth  sending  you. 
I  remain  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  RlJSKIN. 

Geneva,  Oct.  20th, 


1  See  A  Joy  for  Ever  (1880),  pp.  7-9. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


341 


VI.— LITERARY  CRITICISM. 

[From  "  The  World,"  June  9,  1875.] 

THE  PUBLICATION  OF  BOOKS.1 

Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford, 
June  6, 1875. 

To  tlw  Editor  of  "  The  World." 

Sir  :  I  am  very  grateful  for  the  attention  and  candor  with 
which  you  have  noticed  my  effort  to  introduce  a  new  method 
of  publishing. 

Will  you  allow  me  to  explain  one  or  two  points  in  which  I 

1  This  letter  refers  to  an  article  on  Mr.  Raskins  peculiar  method  of 
publication  which  appeared  in  the  World  of  May  26,  1875.  It  was  en- 
titled "Ruskin  to  the  Rescue,"  and  with  the  criticism  to  which  Mr. 
Ruskin  alludes,  strongly  approved  the  idea  of  some  reform  being  at- 
tempted in  the  matter  of  the  publication  of  books.  Mr.  Ruskin  began 
the  still-continued  method  of  publishing  his  works  in  1871  ;  and  the 
following  advertisement,  inserted  in  the  earlier  copies  of  the  first  book 
thus  published— Sesame  and  Lilies— will  give  the  reader  further  in- 
formation on  the  matter. 

"  It  has  long  been  in  my  mind  to  make  some  small  beginning  of  re- 
sistance to  the  existing  system  of  irregular  discount  in  the  bookselling 
trade — not  in  hostility  to  booksellers,  but,  as  I  think  they  will  find  event- 
ually, with  a  just  regard  to  their  interest,  as  well  as  to  that  of  authors. 
Every  volume  of  this  series  of  my  collected  works  will  be  sold  to  the 
trade  without  any  discount  or  allowance  on  quantity,  at  such  a  fixed  price 
as  will  allow  both  author  and  publisher  a  moderate  profit  on  each  vol- 
ume. It  will  be  sold  to  the  trade  only  ;  who  can  then  fix  such  further 
profit  on  it  as  they  deem  fitting,  for  retail. 

' 4  Every  volume  will  be  clearly  printed,  and  thoroughly  well  bound  : 
on  such  conditions  the  price  to  the  public,  allowing  full  profit  to  the 
retailer,  may  sometimes  reach,  but  ought  never  to  exceed,  half  a  guinea, 
nor  do  I  wish  it  to  be  less.  I  will  fully  state  my  reasons  for  this  pro- 
cedure in  the  June  number  of  Fors  Clavigera. 

"The  price  of  this  first  volume  to  the  trade  is  seven  shillings." 

In  subsequent  similar  notices,  some  parts  of  this  plan,  especially  as 
regarded  purchasers  and  price,  were  altered ;  the  trade  not  accepting 
the  offer  of  sale  to  them  only,  and  the  "  trouble  and  difficulty  of  revis- 
ing text  and  preparing  plates"  proving  much  greater  than  Mr.  Ruskin 
had  expected. 


342 


ARROWS  OF  THE  GRACE. 


am  generally  misunderstood  ?  I  meant  to  have  asked  your 
leave  to  do  so  at  some  length,  but  have  been  entirely  busy, 
and  can  only  say,  respecting  two  of  your  questions,  what  in 
my  own  mind  are  the  answers. 

I.  "How  many  authors  are  strong  enough  to  do  without 
advertisements  ?  " 

None  :  while  advertisement  is  the  practice.  But  let  it  be- 
come the  fashion  to  announce  books  once  for  all  in  a  monthly 
circular  (publisher's,  for  instance),  and  the  public  will  simply 
refer  to  that  for  all  they  want  to  know.  Such  advertisement  I 
use  now,  and  always  would. 

II.  "  Why  has  he  determined  to  be  his  own  publisher  ?  " 

I  wish  entirely  to  resist  the  practice  of  writing  for  money 
early  in  life.  I  think  an  author's  business  requires  as  much 
training  as  a  musician's,  and  that,  as  soon  as  he  can  write 
really  well,  there  would  always,  for  a  man  of  worth  and  sense, 
be  found  capital  enough  to  enable  him  to  be  able  to  print,  say, 
a  hundred  pages  of  his  careful  work ;  which,  if  the  public 
were  pleased  with,  they  would  soon  enable  him  to  print  more. 
I  do  not  think  young  men  should  rush  into  print,  nor  old 
ones  modify  their  books  to  please  publishers. 

III.  And  it  seems  to  me,  considering  that  the  existing  ex- 
cellent books  in  the  world  would — if  they  were  heaped  to- 
gether in  great  towns — overtop  their  cathedrals,  that  at  any 
age  a  man  should  think  long  before  he  invites  his  neighbors 
to  listen  to  his  sayings  on  any  subject  whatever. 

What  I  do,  therefore,  is  clone  only  in  the  conviction,  fool- 
ish, egotistic,  whatever  you  like  to  call  it,  but  firm,  that  I  am 
writing  what  is  needful  and  useful  for  my  fellow-creatures  ; 
that  if  it  is  so,  they  will  in  due  time  discover  it,  and  that  be- 
fore due  time  I  do  not  want  it  discovered.  And  it  seems  to 
me  that  no  sound  scholar  or  true  well-wisher  to  the  people 
about  him  would  write  in  any  other  temper.  I  mean  to  be 
paid  for  my  work,  if  it  is  worth  payment.  Not  otherwise. 
And  it  seems  to  me  my  mode  of  publication  is  the  proper 
method  of  ascertaining  that  fact.  I  had  much  more  to  say, 
but  have  no  more  time,  and  am,  sir,  very  respectfully  yours, 

John  Ruskin. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


343 


[From  M  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  January  11,  1875.] 

A  MISTAKEN  REVIEW.1 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  MaU  Gazette" 

Sir  :  The  excellent  letters  and  notes  which  have  recently 
appeared  in  your  columns  on  the  subject  of  reviewing  lead 
me  to  think  that  you  will  give  me  space  for  the  statement  of 
one  or  two  things  which  I  believe  it  is  right  the  public  should 
know  respecting  the  review  which  appeared  in  the  Examiner 
of  the  2d  of  this  month  (but  which  I  did  not  see  till  yester- 
day), by  Mr.  W.  B.  Scott,  of  Mr.  St.  J.  Tyrrwhitt  s  "  Letters 
on  Landscape  Art." 

1.  Mr.  Scott  is  one  of  the  rather  numerous  class  of  artists 
of  whose  works  I  have  never  taken  any  public  notice,  and  who 
attribute  my  silence  to  my  inherent  stupidity  of  disposition. 

2.  Mr.  Scott  is  also  one  of  the  more  limited  and  peculiarly 
unfortunate  class  of  artists  who  suppose  themselves  to  have 
great  native  genius,  dislike  being  told  to  learn  perspective,  and 
prefer  the  first  volume  of  "  Modern  Painters,"  which  praises 
many  third-rate  painters,  and  teaches  none,  to  the  following 
volumes,  which  praise  none  but  good  painters,  and  sometimes 
admit  the  weakness  of  advising  bad  ones. 

3.  My  first  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Scott  was  at  the  house 
of  a  gentleman  whose  interior  walls  he  was  decorating  with 
historic  frescos,  and  whose  patronage  I  (rightly  or  wrongly) 
imagined  at  that  time  to  be  of  importance  to  him.  I  was  then 
more  good-natured  and  less  conscientious  than  I  am  now,  and 
my  host  and  hostess  attached  vveight  to  my  opinions.    I  said 

1  Of  this  review  nothing  need  be  said  beyond  what  is  stated  in  thin 
letter.  The  full  title  of  the  book  which  it  so  harshly  treated  is  Our 
Sketching  Club.  Letters  and  Studies  on  Landscape  Art.  By  the  Rev. 
R.  St.  John  Tyrrwhitt,  M.A.  With  an  authorized  reproduction  of  the 
lessons  and  woodcuts  in  Professor  Ruskin's  Elements  of  Drawing. 
Macmillan,  1874.  The  "  letters  and  notes''  refer  especially  to  one 
signed  "  K"  in  the  Gazette  of  January  1,  and  another  signed  "  A  Young 
Author"  in  that  of  January  4.  The  principal  complaint  of  both  these 
letters  was  that  reviewers  seldom  master,  and  sometimes  do  not  even 
read  the  books  they  criticise. 


344 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CEACK 


all  the  good  I  truly  could  of  the  frescos,  and  no  harm  ;  painted 
a  corn-cockle  on  the  walls  myself,  in  reverent  subordination 
to  them  ;  got  out  of  the  house  as  soon  afterwards  as  I  could, 
and  never  since  sought  Mr.  Scott's  acquaintance  further 
(though,  to  my  regret,  he  was  once  photographed  in  the  same 
plate  with  Mr.  Rossetti  and  me).  Mr.  Scott  is  an  honest  man, 
and  naturally  thinks  me  a  hypocrite  and  turncoat  as  well  as  a 
fool. 

4.  The  honestest  man  in  writing  a  review  is  apt  sometimes 
to  give  obscure  statements  of  facts  which  ought  to  have  been 
clearly  stated  to  make  the  review  entirely  fair.  Permit  me  to 
state  in  very  few  words  those  which  I  think  the  review  in 
question  does  not  clearly  represent.  My  "  Elements  of  Draw- 
ing "  were  out  of  print,  and  sometimes  asked  for  ;  I  wished  to 
rewrite  them,  but  had  not  time,  and  knew  that  my  friend  and 
pupil,  Mr.  Tyrrwhitt,  was  better  acquainted  than  I  myself 
with  some  processes  of  water-color  sketching,  and  was  per- 
fectly acquainted  with  and  heartily  acceptant"  of  the  principles 
which  I  have  taught  to  be  essential  in  all  art.  I  knew  he  could 
write,  and  I  therefore  asked  him  to  write,  a  book  of  his  own 
to  take  the  place  of  the  "  Elements,"  and  authorized  him  to 
make  arrangements  with  my  former  publisher  for  my  wood- 
blocks, mostly  drawn  on  the  wood  by  myself. 

The  book  is  his  own,  not  mine,  else  it  would  have  been 
published  as  mine,  not  his.  I  have  not  read  it  all,  and  do  not 
answer  for  it  all.  But  when  I  wrote  the  " Elements"  I  be- 
lieved conscientiously  that  book  of  mine  to  be  the  best  then 
attainable  by  the  public  on  the  subject  of  elementary  drawing. 
I  think  Mr.  Tyrrwhitt's  a  better  book,  know  it  to  be  a  more 
interesting  one,  and  believe  it  to  be,  in  like  manner,  the  best 
now  attainable  by  the  British  public  on  elementary  practice 
of  art.  I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

John  Ruskin. 

Brantwood,  Jan.  10. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


345 


[From  "The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  January  19,  1875.] 

THE  POSITION  OF  CRITICS. 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette." 

Sir  :  I  see  you  are  writing  of  criticism  ; 1  some  of  your 
readers  may,  perhaps,  be  interested  in  hearing  the  notions  of 
a  man  who  has  dabbled  in  it  a  good  many  years.  I  believe, 
in  a  word,  that  criticism  is  as  impertinent  in  the  world  as  it  is 
in  a  drawing-room.  In  a  kindly  and  well-bred  company,  if 
anybody  tries  to  please  them,  they  try  to  be  pleased  ;  if  any- 
body tries  to  astonish  them,  they  have  the  courtesy  to  be  as- 
tonished ;  if  people  become  tiresome,  they  ask  somebody  else 
to  j)lay,  or  sing,  or  what  not,  but  they  don't  criticise.  For  the 
rest,  a  bad  critic  is  probably  the  most  mischievous  person  in 
the  world  (Swift's  Goddess  of  Criticism  in  the  "  Tale  of  a  Tub  " 
seems  what  need  be  represented,  on  that  subject 2),  and  a  good 
one  the  most  helpless  and  unhappy  :  the  more  he  knows,  the 
less  he  is  trusted,  and  it  is  too  likely  he  may  become  morose 
in  his  unacknowledged  power.  A  good  executant,  in  any  art, 
gives  pleasure  to  multitudes,  and  breathes  an  atmosphere  of 
praise,  but  a  strong  critic  is  every  man's  adversary — men  feel 
that  he  knows  their  foibles,  and  cannot  conceive  that  he  knows 
more.  His  praise,  to  be  acceptable,  must  be  always  unquali- 
fied ;  his  equity  is  an  offence  instead  of  a  virtue  ;  and  the  art 
of  correction,  which  he  has  learned  so  laboriously,  only  fills  his 
hearers  with  disgust. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

John  Buskin. 

Brantwood,  Jan.  18. 

1  Since  the  correspondence  already  mentioned,  the  Gazette  of  January 
14  and  18  had  contained  two  long  letters  on  the  subject  from  "  A  Re- 
viewer." 

2  The  Goddess  of  Criticism,  with  Ignorance  and  Pride  for  her  parents, 
Opinion  for  her  sister,  and  for  her  children  Noise  and  Impudence,  Dul- 
ness  and  Vanity,  Positiveness,  Pedantry,  and  Ill-manners,  is  described 
in  the  Battle  of  the  Books— the  paper  which  follows,  and  is  a  compan- 
ion to  the  Tale  of  a  Tub. 


34G 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


[From  4 'The  Critic,"  October  27,  I860.] 

COVENTRY  PATMORE'S  "FAITHFUL  FOR  EVER:" 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Critic:' 

Sir  :  I  do  not  doubt,  from  what  I  have  observed  ot 
general  tone  of  the  criticisms  in  your  columns,  that,  in  canAov 
and  courtesy,  you  will  allow  me  to  enter  protest,  bearing  such 
worth  as  private  opinion  may,  against  the  estimate  expressed 
in  your  last  number  of  the  merits  of  Mr.  C.  Patmore's  new 
poem. 1  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  read  it  hastily  ;  and 
that  you  have  taken  such  view  of  it  as  on  a  first  reading 
almost  every  reader  of  good  but  impatient  judgment  would  be 
but  too  apt  to  concur  with  you  in  adopting — one,  nevertheless, 
which,  if  you  examine  the  poem  with  care,  you  will,  I  think, 
both  for  your  readers'  sake  and  Mr.  Patmore's,  regret  having 
expressed  so  decidedly. 

The  poem  is,  to  the  best  of  my  perception  and  belief,  a 
singularly  perfect  piece  of  art ;  containing,  as  all  good  art 
does,  many  very  curious  shortcomings  (to  appearance),  and 
places  of  rest,  or  of  dead  color,  or  of  intended  harshness, 
which,  if  they  are  seen  or  quoted  without  the  parts  of  the 
piece  to  which  they  relate,  are  of  course  absurd  enough,  pre- 
cisely as  the  discords  in  a  fine  piece  of  music  would  be  if  you 
played  them  without  their  resolutions.  You  have  quoted 
separately  Mr.  Patmore's  discords ;  you  might  by  the  same 
system  of  examination  have  made  Mozart  or  Mendelssohn 
appear  to  be  no  musicians,  as  you  have  probably  convinced 
your  quick  readers  that  Mr.  Patmore  is  no  poet. 

I  will  not  beg  of  you  so  much  space  as  would  be  necessay 
to  analyze  the  poem,  but  I  hope  you  will  let  me — once  for  all 
— protest  against  the  method  of  criticism  which  assumes  that 
entire  familiarity  and  simplicity  in  certain  portions  of  a  great 
work  destroy  its  dignity.  Simple  things  ought  to  be  simply 
said,  and  truly  poetical  diction  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
right  diction  ;  the  incident  being  itself  poetical  or  not,  accord- 


*  The  tone  of  the  criticism  is  sufficiently  explained  in  this  letter. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


347 


ing  to  its  relations  and  the  feelings  which  it  is  intended  to 
manifest — not  according  to  its  own  nature  merely.  To  take 
a  single  instance  out  of  Homer  bearing  on  that  same  simple 
household  work  which  you  are  so  shocked  at  Mr.  Patmore's 
taking  notice  of,  Homer  describes  the  business  of  a  family 
washing,  when  it  comes  into  his  poem,  in  the  most  accurate 
terms  he  can  find.  "  They  took  the  clothes  in  their  hands  ; 
and  poured  on  the  clean  water  ;  and  trod  them  in  trenches 
thoroughly,  trying  who  could  do  it  best ;  and  when  they  had 
washed  them  and  got  off  all  the  dirt,  they  spread  them  out 
on  the  sea-beach,  where  the  sea  had  blanched  the  shingle 
cleanest."  1 

These  are  the  terms  in  which  the  great  poet  explains  the 
matter.    The  less  poet — or,  rather,  man  of  modern  wit  and 


1  See  Homer,  Odyssey,  vi.  90. 

E'luara  x^P^  eKovro  Kal  £cr<p6p€oy  fxe\av  uSeop, 
"STuftov  5'eV  fS6&poi<n  &ows  epiBa  irpo(p€pov<rcu. 
Avrkp  iirel  irKvvdv  T€  Kufrypdv  re  pvita  irdprat 
'Ej-eirjs  iceracrav  irapa  ffiv'  a\bs,  f)Xl  ^d\tara 
Aaiyyas  ttot\  xipGov  anwAvj/ecr/ce  frdAacaa. 

Ilie  verse  translation  of  this  passage  given  in  the  letter  is  from  Pope's 
Odyssey. 

The  lines  in  Faithful  for  Ever,  particularly  alluded  to  as  having  been 
condemned  by  the  u  Critic,''  were  those  here  italicized  in  the  following 
passage  : 

44  For  your  sake  I  am  glad  to  hear 
You  sail  so  soon.    T send  you,  Dear, 
A  trifling  present ;  and  will  supply 
Your  Salisbury  costs.    You  have  to  buy 
Almost  an  outfit  for  this  cruise  ! 
But  many  are  good  enough  to  xise 

Again,  among  the  things  you  send 
To  give  away.    My  maid  shall  mend 
And  let  you  have  them  back.    Adieu  1 
Tell  me  of  all  you  see  and  do. 
I  know,  thank  God,  whate'er  it  be, 
'Twill  need  no  veil  'twixt  you  and  me." 

(laitnml  for  Ever,  p.  17,  II.  "  Mrs.  Graham  to  Frederick/'  her  sailor 
son.) 


348 


A11R0W8  OF  THE  C II ACE. 


breeding,  without  superior  poetical  power — thus  puts  the  afr 
fair  into  dignified  language  : 

Then  emulous  the  royal  robes  they  lave, 
And  plunge  the  vestures  in  the  cleansing  wave. 
(The  vestures  cleansed  o'erspread  the  shelly  sand, 
Their  snowy  lustre  whitens  all  the  strand.) 

Now,  to  my  mind,  Homer's  language  is  by  far  the  most  poeti- 
cal of  the  two — is,  in  fact,  the  only  poetical  language  possible 
in  the  matter.  Whether  it  was  desirable  to  give  any  account 
of  this,  or  anything  else,  depends  wholly  on  the  relation  of 
the  passage  to  the  rest  of  the  poem,  and  you  could  only  show 
Mr.  Patmore's  glance  into  the  servant's  room  to  be  ridiculous 
by  proving  the  mother's  mind,  which  it  illustrates,  to  be  ridic- 
ulous. Similarly,  if  you  were  to  take  one  of  Mr.  George  Bich- 
mond's  perfectest  modern  portraits,  and  give  a  little  separate 
engraving  of  a  bit  of  the  neck-tie  or  coat-lappet,  you  might 
easily  demonstrate  a  very  prosaic  character  either  in  the  rib- 
and-end or  the  button-hole.  But  the  only  real  question  re- 
specting  them  is  their  relation  to  the  face,  and  the  degree  in 
which  they  help  to  express  the  character  of  the  wearer. 
What  the  real  relations  of  the  parts  are  in  the  poem  in  ques- 
tion only  a  thoughtful  and  sensitive  reader  will  discover. 
The  poem  is  not  meant  for  a  song,  or  calculated  for  an  hour's 
amusement ;  it  is,  as  I  said,  to  the  best  of  my  belief,  a  finished 
and  tender  work  of  very  noble  art.  Whatever  on  this  head 
may  be  the  final  judgment  of  the  public,  I  am  bound,  for  my 
own  part,  to  express  my  obligation  to  Mr.  Patmore,  as  one  of 
my  severest  models  and  tutors  in  use  of  English,  and  my 
respect  for  him  as  one  of  the  truest  and  tenderest  thinkers 
who  have  ever  illustrated  the  most  important,  because  com- 
monest, states  of  noble  human  life.1 

I  remain,  Sir,  yours,  etc., 
Denmark  Hill.  J.  Buskin. 

1  See  Sesame  and  Lilies  (Ruskin's  Works,  vol.  i.),  p.  89,  note. 
"  Coventry  Patmore.  You  cannot  read  him  too  often  or  too  carefully  ; 
as  far  as  I  know  lie  is  the  only  living  poet  who  always  strengthens  and 
purines  ;  the  others  sometimes  darken,  and  nearly  always  depress  and 
discourage,  the  imagination  they  deeply  seize." 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS, 


349 


[From  "  The  Asiatic,'1  May  23,  1871.] 

"  THE  QUEEN  OF  THE  AIR." 

To  the  Editor  of  <?  TJie  Asiatic:' 

Sir  :  I  am  obliged  and  flattered  by  the  tone  of  your  article 
on  ray  "  Queen  of  the  Air  "  in  your  last  number,  but  not  at  all 
by  the  substance  of  it ;  and  it  so  much  misinterprets  my 
attempt  in  that  book  that  I  will  ask  your  leave  to  correct  it  in 
main  points.1  The  "  Queen  of  the  Air  "  was  written  to  show, 
not  what  could  be  fancied,  but  what  was  felt  and  meant,  in  the 
myth  of  Athena.  Every  British  sailor  knows  that  Neptune  is 
the  god  of  the  sea.  He  does  not  know  that  Athena  is  the 
goddess  of  the  air  ;  I  doubt  if  many  of  our  school-boys  know 
it — I  doubt  even  if  many  of  our  school-masters  know  it ;  and 
I  believe  the  evidence  of  it  given  in  the  "  Queen  of  the  Air  " 
to  be  the  first  clear  and  connected  approximate  proof  of  it 
which  has  yet  been  rendered  by  scientific  mythology,  properly 
so  called. 

You  say,  "I  have  not  attempted  to  explain  all  mythology. " 
I  wonder  what  you  would  have  said  of  me  if  I  had  f  I  only 
know  a  little  piece  of  it  here  and  there,  just  as  I  know  a  crag 
of  alp  or  a  bend  of  river  ;  and  even  what  I  know  could  not  be 
put  into  a  small  octavo  volume.  Nevertheless,  I  should  have 
had  another  such  out  by  this  time  on  the  Apolline  Myths,  and, 
perhaps,  one  on  the  Earth-Gods,  but  for  my  Oxford  work  ; 
and  shall  at  all  events  have  a  little  more  to  say  on  the  matter 
than  I  have  yet  said — and  much  need  there  is — when  all  that 
has  yet  been  done  by  "  scientific  "  mythology  ends  in  the  as- 
sertion made  by  your  reviewer,  that  "  mythology  is  useful 
mainly  as  a  storehouse  for  poets,  and  for  literary  men  in  want 
of  some  simile  or  metaphor  to  produce  a  striking  effect." 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

May  18,  1871-  John  Ruskin. 

1  The  article  was  entitled  Aryan  Mythology  :  Second  Notice,  the  first 
notice  having  been  a  review  of  Mr.  Gladstone  s  Juventus  Mundi,  and  of 
some  other  mythological  works.  (See  the  Asiatic,  April  25  and  May  16, 
1871.)  The  nature  of  the  praise  and  criticism  of  the  article  may  be  gath- 
ered from  this  letter. 


350 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHAOE. 


[From  "The  Morning  Chronicle,"  January  20,  1855.    (Reprinted  in  "  The  Evening  Jour* 
nal,"  January  22.)] 

THE  ANIMALS  OF  SCRIPTURE:  A  REVIEW.1 

Among  the  various  illustrated  works  which  usually  grace 
the  beginning  of  the  year,  has  appeared  one  which,  though  of 
graver  and  less  attractive  character  than  its  companions,  is 
likely  to  occupy  a  more  permanent  place  on  the  library 
shelves.  We  allude  to  "  Illustrations  of  Scripture,  by  an 
Animal  Painter, "  a  work  which,  whatever  its  faults  or  weak- 
nesses, shows  at  least  a  singular  power  of  giving  reality  and 
interest  to  scenes  which  are  apt  to  be  but  feebly,  if  at  all, 
brought  before  the  mental  vision,  in  consequence  of  our  famil- 
iarity with  the  words  which  describe  them.  The  idea  of  the 
work  is  itself  sufficiently  original.  The  animals  are  through- 
out principal,  and  the  pathos  or  moral  of  the  passage  to  be 
illustrated  is  developed  from  its  apparently  subordinate  part 
in  it.  Thus  the  luxury  and  idolatry  of  the  reign  of  Solomon 
are  hinted  behind  a  group  of  "  apes  and  peacocks  ; "  the  Del- 
uge is  subordinate  to  the  dove  ;  and  the  healing  of  the  lunatic 
at  Gennesareth  to  the  destruction  of  the  herd  of  swine. 

In  general,  to  approach  an  object  from  a  new  point  of  view 
is  to  place  it  in  a  clearer  light,  and  perhaps  the  very  strange- 
ness of  the  treatment  in  some  cases  renders  the  subject  more 
impressive  than  it  could  have  been  made  by  any  more  regular 
method  of  conception.  But,  at  all  events,  supposing  the 
studies  of  the  artist  to  have  been  chiefly  directed  to  animals, 
and  her  power  to  lie  principally  in  seizing  their  character, 
she  is  to  be  thanked  for  filling  her  sketches  of  the  inferior 
creatures  with  so  much  depth  of  meaning,  and  rendering  the 
delineation  even  of  an  ape,  or  a  swallow,  suggestive  of  the 
most  solemn  trains  of  thought. 


1  The  full  title  of  the  book  here  reviewed  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  and  long 
since  out  of  print,  was  Twenty  Photographs  ;  being  illustrations  of  Scrip- 
ture. By  an  Animal  Painter  ;  with  Notes  by  a  Naturalist.  Imperial 
4to.  Edinburgh  :  Constable,  1854.  The  work  was,  however,  reprinted, 
with  engravings  of  the  photographs,  in  Good  Words  for  1861. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


351 


As  so  suggestive,  without  pretence  or  formalism,  these 
drawings  deserve  a  place  of  peculiar  honor  in  the  libraries  of 
the  young,  while  there  are  also  some  qualities  in  them  which 
fit  them  for  companionship  with  more  elaborate  works  of  art. 
The  subject  of  "  Lazarus  "  is  treated  with  a  courage  and  ten- 
derness which  say  much  for  the  painter's  imagination,  and 
more  for  her  heart ;  and  the  waste  of  waters  above  which  the 
raven  hovers  is  expressed,  though  rudely,  yet  in  a  way  which 
tells  of  many  an  hour  spent  in  watching  the  play  of  the  even- 
ing light  upon  the  movement  of  the  wearied  sea.  It  is  true 
that  most  of  the  compositions  are  weakened  by  a  very  visible 
contempt,  if  not  ignorance,  of  the  laws  which  regulate  the 
harmonies  of  shade,  as  well  as  by  a  painful  deficiency  in  the 
drawing.  Still  there  is  a  life  and  sincerity  in  them  which  are 
among  the  rarest  qualities  in  art ;  and  one  characteristic,  very 
remarkable  in  the  works  of  a  person  described  in  the  text  (we 
doubt  not,  much  against  her  will)  as  an  "  accomplished  lady  * 
— we  mean  the  peculiar  tendency  to  conceptions  of  tearful- 
ness, or  horror,  rather  than  of  beauty.  The  camel,  for  in- 
stance, might,  we  should  have  thought,  as  easily,  and  to  many 
persons  much  more  pleasingly,  have  illustrated  the  meeting 
of  Eebekah  with  the  servant  of  Abraham,  as  the  desolation 
of  Kabbah ;  and  the  dog  might  as  gracefully  have  been 
brought  forward  to  remind  us  of  the  words  of  the  Syro-Phoeni- 
cian  woman,  as  to  increase  the  horror  of  the  death  of  Jezebel. 
There  are  curious  evidences  of  a  similar  disposition  in  some 
of  the  other  plates  ;  and  while  it  appears  to  us  indicative  of 
the  strength  of  a  mind  of  no  common  order,  we  would  cau- 
tion the  fair  artist  against  permitting  it  to  appear  too  fre- 
quently. It  renders  the  series  of  drawings  in  some  degree 
repulsive  to  many  persons,  and  even  by  those  who  can  sym- 
pathize with  it  might  sometimes  be  suspected  of  having  its 
root  in  a  sublime  kind  of  affectation. 

We  have  spoken  of  these  studies  as  drawings.  They  are, 
in  fact,  as  good,  being  photographic  fac-similes  of  the  original 
sketches.  The  text  is  copious,  and  useful  as  an  elucidation 
of  the  natural  history  of  Scripture. 


352 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


[From  "  The  Builder,"  December  9,  1854.] 

"  LIMNER ''  AND  ILL  JJMINA  TION. 1 
To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Builder:' 

I  clo  not  usually  answer  objections  to  my  written  state- 
ments, otherwise  I  should  waste  my  life  in  idle  controversy  ; 
but  as  what  I  say  to  the  workmen  at  the  Architectural  Museum 
is  necessarily  brief,  and  in  its  words,  though  not  in  its  sub- 
stance, unconsidered,  I  will  answer,  if  you  will  permit  me, 
any  questions  or  cavils  which  you  may  think  worthy  of  admis- 
sion into  your  columns  on  the  subject  of  these  lectures. 

I  do  not  know  if  the  Cambridge  correspondent,  whose  letter 
you  inserted  last  week,  is  more  zealous  for  the  honor  of  Cary, 
or  anxious  to  detect  me  in  a  mistake.  If  the  former,  he  will 
find  if  he  take  the  trouble  to  look  at  the  note  in  the  264th 
page  of  the  second  volume  of  the  "  Stones  of  Venice,"  that 
Gary's  reputation  is  not  likely  to  suffer  at  my  hands.2  But 

1  In  his  lecture  on  "the  distinction  "between  illumination  and  paint- 
ing," being  the  first  of  a  series  on  Decorative  Color  delivered  at  the  Archi- 
tectural Museum,  Cannon  Street,  Westminster,  Mr.  Ruskin  is  reported 
(Builder,  Nov.  25,  1854)  to  have  said,  "  The  line  which  is  given  by  Cary, 
4  which  they  of  Paris  call  the  limner's  skill,'  is  not  properly  translated. 
The  word  which  in  the  original  is  '  alluminare^  does  not  mean  the  lim- 
ner's art,  but  the  art  of  the  illuminator — the  writer  and  illuminator  of 
books."  In  criticism  of  this  remark,  u  M.  A.,"  writing  to  the  Builder 
from  Cambridge,  defended  Cary's  translation  by  referring  to  Johnson's 
dictionary  to  show  that  "  limner  "  was  after  all  corrupted  from  u  enlum- 
ineur,"  i.e.,  "a  decorator  of  books  with  initial  pictures/'  His  letter 
concluded  by  remarking  upon  another  of  Mr.  Buskin's  statements  in 
the  same  lecture,  namely,  that  u  Black  letter  is  not  really  illegible,  it  is 
only  that  we  are  not  accustomed  to  it.  .  .  The  fact  is,  no  kind 
of  character  is  really  illegible.  If  you  wish  to  see  real  illegibility,  go  to 
the  Houses  of  Parliament  and  look  at  the  inscriptions  there  !  " 

The  present  letter  was  written  in  reply  to  "  M.  A.,"  from  whom  the 
latter  portion  of  it  elicited  a  further  letter,  together  with  one  from 
"  Vindex,M  in  defence  or  Sir  Charles  Barry  and  the  Houses  of  Parlia- 
ment (see  the  Builder,  Dec.  16,  1854). 

2  "  It  is  generally  better  to  read  ten  lines  of  any  poet  in  the  original 
language,  however  painfully,  than  ten  cantos  of  a  translation.  But  an 
exception  may  be  made  in  favor  of  Cary"s  '  Dante,'  If  no  poet  ever 
was  liable  to  lose  more  in  translation,  none  was  ever  so  carefully  trans- 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


353 


the  translation  in  the  instance  quoted  is  inadmissible.  It  does 
not  matter  in  the  least  whence  the  word  "  limner 99  is  derived. 
I  did  not  know  when  I  found  fault  with  it  that  it  was  a  cor- 
ruption of  ' '  illuminator,"  but  I  knew  perfectly  that  it  did  not 
in  the  existing  state  of  the  English  language  mean  "  illuminat- 
or. "  No  one  talks  of  "  limning  a  missal,"  or  of  a  "  limned  missal." 
The  word  is  now  universally  understood  as  signifying  a  painter 
or  draughtsman  in  the  ordinary  sense,  and  cannot  be  accepted 
as  a  translation  of  the  phrase  of  which  it  is  a  corruption. 

Touching  the  last  clause  of  the  letter,  I  should  have  thought 
that  a  master  of  arts  of  Cambridge  might  have  had  wit  enough 
to  comprehend  that  characters  may  be  illegible  by  being  far 
off,  as  well  as  by  being  ill-shaped  ;  and  that  it  is  not  less  diffi- 
cult to  read  what  is  too  small  to  be  seen  than  what  is  too 
strange  to  be  understood.  The  inscriptions  on  the  Houses  of 
Parliament  are  illegible,  not  because  they  are  in  black  letters, 
but  because,  like  all  the  rest  of  the  work  on  that,  I  suppose 
the  most  effeminate  and  effectless  heap  of  stones  ever  raised  by 
man,  they  are  utterly  unfit  for  their  position. 

J.  RuSKIN. 


[From  the  "  Transactions  of  the  New  Shakspere  Society  "  for  187 -SO,  pp.  409-12.] 

NOTES  ON  A  WORD  IN  SHAKESPEARE^ 
% 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire. 
My  dear  Furnivall  :  Of  course,  in  any  great  writer's  word, 
the  question  is  far  less  what  the  word  came  from,  than  where 

lated  ;  and  I  hardly  know  whether  most  to  admire  the  rigid  fidelity,  or 
the  sweet  and  solemn  harmony,  of  Cary's  verse,"  etc.  See  the  note  to 
the  Stones  of  Venice,  at  the  above-named  page. 

1  This  and  the  next  letter  were  written  in  answer  to  Mr.  Furnivall, 
who,  upon  being  questioned  what  appearance  in  the  clouds  was  in- 
tended by  the  word  1 1  fret"  in  the  above  passage,  referred  the  point  to 
Mr.  Ruskin,  whose  answers  were  subsequently  read  at  the  forty-fifth 
meeting  of  the  Society,  Oct.  11,  1878. 

"  And  yon  gray  lines 
Thai  fret  the  clouds  are  messengers  of  day." 

Julius  Cesar,  II.  i.  103-4. 


354 


ARROWS  OF  THE  OH  ACE. 


it  lias  come  to.  Fret  means  all  manner  of  things  in  that 
place ;  primarily,  the  rippling  of  clouds — as  sea  by  wind  ; 
secondarily,  the  breaking  it  asunder  for  light  to  come  through. 
It  implies  a  certain  degree  of  vexation — some  dissolution — • 
much  order,  and  extreme  beauty.  I  have  myself  used  this 
word  substantively,  to  express  the  rippled  edge  of  a  wing- 
feather.  In  architecture  and  jewellery  it  means  simply  rough- 
ening in  a  decorative  manner.* 

Ever  affectionately  yours, 

J.  Buskin. 


NOTES  ON  A  WORD  IN  SHAKESPEARE. 

n. 

Edinburgh,  29th  Sept,  1878. 

Dear  Furnivall  :  Your  kind  letter  comes  to  me  here,  and 
I  must  answer  on  this  paper,  for,  if  that  bit  of  note  is  really 
of  any  use  to  you,  you  must  please  add  this  word  or  two  more, 
in  printing,  as  it  wouldn't  do  to  let  it  be  such  a  mere  fret  on 
the  vault  of  its  subject.  You  say  not  one  man  in  150  knows 
what  the  line  means  :  my  dear  Furnivall,  not  one  man  in  15,000, 
in  the  19th  century,  knows,  or  even  can  know,  what  any  line — 
or  any  ivord  means,  used  by  a  great  writer.  For  most  words 
stand  for  things  that  are  seen,  or  things  that  are  thought  of ; 
and  in  the  19th  century  there  is  certainly  not  one  man  in 
15,000  who  ever  looks  at  anything,  and  not  one  in  15,000,000 
capable  of  a  thought.  Take  the  intelligence  of  this  word  in 
this  line  for  example — the  root  of  the  whole  matter  is,  first, 
that  the  reader  should  have  seen  what  he  has  often  heard  of, 
but  probably  not  seen  twice  in  his  life—  "  Daybreak."  Next, 
it  is  needful  he  should  think  what  "  break "  means  in  that 
word — what  is  broken,  namely,  and  by  what.  That  is  to  say, 
the  cloud  of  night  is  Broken  up,  as  a  city  is  broken  up  (Jeru- 


*  In  modern  English  "  chasing  "  has  got  confused  with  it, 
but  it  should  be  separated  again. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


355 


salem,  when  Zedekiah  fled),  as  a  school  breaks  up,  as  a 
constitution,  or  a  ship,  is  broken  up  ;  in  every  case  with  a  not 
inconsiderable  change  of  idea  and  addition  to  the  central 
word.  This  breaking  up  is  done  by  the  Day,  which  breaks — 
out,  as  a  man  breaks,  or  bursts  out,  from  his  restraint  in  a 
passion  ;  breaks  down  in  tears  ;  or  breaks  in,  as  from  heaven 
to  earth — with  a  breach  in  the  cloud-wall  of  it ;  or  breaks  out, 
with  a  sense  of  outward — as  the  sun — out  and  out,  farther  and 
farther,  after  rain.  Well ;  next,  the  thing  that  the  day  breaks 
up  is  partly  a  garment,  rent,  more  than  broken ;  a  mantle,  the 
day  itself  "in  russet  mantle  clad" — the  blanket  of  the  dark, 
torn  to  be  peeped  through — whereon  instantly  you  get  into  a 
whole  host  of  new  ideas  ;  fretting  as  a  moth  frets  a  garment ; 
unravelling  at  the  edge,  afterwards ; — thence  you  get  into 
fringe,  which  is  an  entirely  double  word,  meaning  partly  a 
thing  that  guards,  and  partly  a  thing  that  is  worn  away  on  the 
ground ;  the  French  Frange  has,  I  believe,  a  reminiscence  of 
^pacrcraj  in  it — our  "fringe"  runs  partly  toward  frico  and 
friction — both  are  essentially  connected  with  frango,  and  the 
fringe  of  "breakers"  at  the  shores  of  all  seas,  and  the  break- 
ing of  the  ripples  and  foam  all  over  them — but  this  is  wholly 
different  in  a  northern  mind,  which  has  only  seen  the  sea 

Break,  break,  break,  on  its  cold  gray  stones, — 

and  a  southern,  which  has  seen  a  hot  sea  on  hot  sand  break 
into  lightning  of  phosphor  flame — half  a  mile  of  fire  in  an 
instant — following  in  time,  like  the  flash  of  minute-guns. 
Then  come  the  great  new  ideas  of  order  and  time,  and 

I  did  but  tell  her  she  mistook  her  frets, 
And  bowed  her  hand,  etc. , 

and  so  the  timely  succession  of  either  ball,  flower,  or  dentil,  in 
architecture :  but  this,  again,  going  off  to  a  totally  different 
and  still  lovely  idea,  the  main  one  in  the  word  aurifrigium — 
which  rooted  once  in  aurifex,  went  on  in  Etruscan  work,  fol- 
lowed in  Florence  into  a  much  closer  connection  with  frigid  m 
— their  style  being  always  in  frosted  gold  (see  th©  dew  on  a 


35G 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


cabbage-leaf  or,  better,  on  a  gray  lichen,  in  early  sunshine)—* 
going  back,  nobody  knows  how  far,  but  to  the  Temple  of  the 
Dew  of  Athens,  and  gold  of  Mycense,  anyhow  ;  and  in  Etruria 
to  the  Deluge,  I  suppose.  Well,  then,  the  notion  of  the  music 
of  morning  comes  in — with  strings  of  lyre  (or  frets  of  Katha- 
rine's instrument,  whatever  it  was)  and  stops  of  various  q  uills  ; 
which  gets  us  into  another  group  beginning  with  plectrum, 
going  aside  again  into  plico  and  plight,  and  Milton's 

"  Play  in  the  plighted  clouds  " 

(the  quills  on  the  fretful  porcupine  are  all  thought  of,  first,  in 
their  piped  complexity  like  rushes,  before  the  standing  up 
in  ill-temper),  and  so  on  into  the  plight  of  folded  drapery,  and 
round  again  to  our  blanket.  I  think  that's  enough  to  sketch 
out  the  compass  of  the  word.  Of  course  the  real  power  of  it 
in  any  place  depends  on  the  writer's  grasp  of  it,  and  use  of 
the  facet  he  wants  to  cut  with. 


[From  M  The  Theatre,"  March  1880,  p.  169.] 

"THE  MERCHANT  OF  VENICE."* 

6th  Feb.,  1880. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  whatever  Mr.  Irving  has  stated  that  I 
said,  I  did  say.    But  in  personal  address  to  an  artist,  to  whom 

1  The  circumstances  connected  with  the  present  letter,  or  rather  ex- 
tract from  one,  are  as  follows :  After  witnessing  the  performance  of 
The  Merchant  of  Venice  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  Mr.  Ruskin  had 
some  conversation  with  Mr.  Irving  on  the  subject.  In  the  Theatre  of 
January  1880 — p.  63 — appeared  a  paragraph  which  stated  that  at  the 
interview  named  Mr.  Ruskin  had  declared  Mr.  Irving's  "Shylock"  to 
he  "  noble,  tender,  and  true,"  and  it  is  to  that  statement  that  the  present 
letter,  which  appeared  in  the  March  number  of  the  Theatre,  relates. 
With  reference  to  the  letter  privately  addressed  to  Mr.  Irving,  the  The- 
atre of  April  (p.  249)  had  a  note  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Irving  had,  for 
excellent  and  commendable  reasons,  preferred  it  not  being  made  public. 
For  a  full  statement  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  view3  of  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 
see  Munera  Pulveris,  p.  102. 


MISCELLANEOUS  LETTERS. 


357 


one  is  introduced  for  the  first  time,  one  does  not  usually  say 
all  that  may  be  in  one's  mind.  And  if  expressions,  limited, 
if  not  even  somewhat  exaggerated,  by  courtesy,  be  afterwards 
quoted  as  a  total  and  carefully-expressed  criticism,  the  gen- 
eral reader  will  be — or  may  be  easily — much  misled.  I  did 
and  do  much  admire  Mr.  Irving's  own  acting  of  Shylock. 
But  I  entirely  dissent  (and  indignantly  as  well  as  entirely) 
from  his  general  reading  and  treatment  of  the  play.  And  I 
think  that  a  modern  audience  will  invariably  be  not  only 
wrong,  but  diametrically  and  with  polar  accuracy  opposite  to, 
the  real  view  of  any  great  author  in  the  moulding  of  his  work. 

So  far  as  I  could  in  kindness  venture,  I  expressed  my  feel- 
ings to  that  effect,  in  a  letter  which  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Irving  on 
the  day  after  I  saw  the  play ;  and  I  should  be  sincerely 
obliged  to  him,  under  the  existing  circumstances,  if  he  would 
publish  the  whole  of  that  letter. 


RECITATIONS. 

Sheffield,  lQth  February,  1880. 
My  dear  Sir  : 1  I  am  most  happy  to  assure  you,  in  reply  to 
your  interesting  letter  of  the  12th,  that  I  heard  your  daugh- 
ters' recitations  in  London  last  autumn,  with  quite  unmixed 
pleasure  and  the  sincerest  admiration — nor  merely  that,  but 
with  grave  change  in  my  opinions  of  the  general  value  of  rec- 
itations as  a  means  of  popular  instruction.  Usually,  I  like 
better  to  hear  beautiful  poetry  read  quietly  than  recited  with 
action.  But  I  felt,  in  hearing  Shelley's  "  Cloud  "  recited  (I 
think  it  was  by  Miss  Josephine)  that  I  also  was  "  one  of  the 
people,"  and  understood  the  poem  better  than  ever  before, 
though  I  am  by  way  of  knowing  something  about  clouds,  too. 
I  also  know  the  "  Jackdaw  of  Rheims  "  pretty  nearly  by  heart ; 


1  This  letter  was  addressed  to  Mr.  R.  T.  Webling,  by  whom  it  was 
afterwards  printed  as  a  testimonial  of  the  interest  and  success  of  his 
daughters'  recitations.  It  was  reprinted  in  the  Daily  News  (Feb.  18, 
1880). 


358 


ARROWS  OF  THE  CHACE. 


but  I  would  gladly  come  to  London  straightway,  had  I  the 
time,  to  hear  Miss  Peggy  speak  it  again.  And — in  fine — I 
have  not  seen  any  public  entertainment — for  many  a  long 
year — at  once  so  sweet,  so  innocent,  and  so  helpful,  as  that 
which  your  children  can  give  to  all  the  gentle  and  simple  in 
mind  and  heart. — Believe  me,  my  dear  Sir,  faithfully,  and 
with  all  felicitation,  yours, 

J.  Ruskin. 


APPENDIX. 


[From  the  '«  Testimonials"  of  W.  C.  Bennett,  LL.D.    1871 ;  p.  22.] 

LETTER  TO  W.  C.  BENNETT,  LL.D.1 

Herne  Hill,  Dulwich,  December  28th,  1852. 
Dear  Mr.  Bennett  :  I  hope  this  line  will  arrive  in  time  to 
wish  you  and  yours  a  happy  New  Year,  and  to  assure  you  of 
the  great  pleasure  I  had  in  receiving  your  poems  from  you,  and 
of  the  continual  pleasure  I  shall  have  in  possessing  them.  I 
deferred  writing  to  you  in  order  that  I  might  tell  you  how  I 
liked  those  which  were  new  to  me,  but  Christmas,  and  certain 
little  "pattering  pairs  of  restless  shoes  "  which  have  somehow 
or  another  got  into  the  house  in  his  train,  have  hitherto  pre- 
vented me  from  settling  myself  for  a  quiet  read.  In  fact,  I 
am  terribly  afraid  of  being  quite  turned  upside  down  when  I 
do,  so  as  to  lose  my  own  identity,  for  you  have  already  nearly 
made  me  like  babies,  and  I  see  an  ode  further  on  to  another 
antipathy  of  mine — the  only  one  I  have  in  the  kingdom  of 
flowers— the  chrysanthemum.  However,  I  am  sure  you  will 
be  well  pleased  if  you  can  cure  me  of  all  dislikes.  I  should 
write  to  you  now  more  cheerfully,  but  that  I  am  anxious  for 

1  The  present  letter  is  from  the  Testimonials  of  W.  C.  Bennett,  LL.D., 
Candidate  for  the  Clerkship  of  the  London  School  Board.  The  pam- 
phlet consists  of  "  letters  from  distinguished  men  of  the  time,"  and  in- 
cludes some  from  Mr.  Carlyle,  Mr.  Tennyson,  Mr.  Browning,  Charles 
Dickens,  and  others.  Mr.  Ruskin's  letter  was  originally  addressed  to 
Mr.  Bennett  in  thanks  for  a  copy  of  his  Poems  (Chapman  and  Hall, 
1850).  The  poems  specially  alluded  to  are  u  Toddling  May"  (from 
which  Mr.  Ruskin  quotes),  "Baby  May,"  and  another,  "To  the  Chry- 
santhemum."   The  book  is  dedicated  to  Miss  M,itford. 


860 


APPENDIX. 


the  person  who,  of  all  I  know,  has  fewest  dislikes  and  warm- 
est likings— for  Miss  Mitford.  I  trust  she  is  better,  and  that 
she  may  be  spared  for  many  years  to  come.  I  don't  know  if 
England  has  such  another  warm  heart. 

I  hope  I  may  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  here  in  case 
your  occasions  should  at  any  time  bring  you  to  London,  and 
I  remain,  with  much  respect,  most  truly  yours, 

J.  EUSKIN. 


[From  the  "  Memoir  of  Thomas  Guthrie,  D.D."   Vol.  ii.  pp.  321-2  (1875).] 

LETTER  TO  DR.  GUTHRIE.' 

Saturday,  26t7i,  1853. 

I  found  a  little  difficulty  in  writing  the  words  on  the  first 
page,  wondering  whether  you  would  think  the  "  affectionate  " 
misused  or  insincere.  But  I  made  up  my  mind  at  last  to  write 
what  I  felt ;  believing  that  you  must  be  accustomed  to  people's 
getting  very  seriously  and  truly  attached  to  you,  almost  at 
first  sight,  and  therefore  would  believe  me. 

You  asked  me,  the  other  evening,  some  kind  questions  about 
my  father.  He  was  an  Edinburgh  boy,  and  in  answer  to  some 
account  by  me  of  the  pleasure  I  had  had  in  hearing  you,  and 
the  privilege  of  knowing  you,  as  also  of  your  exertions  in  the 
cause  of  the  Edinburgh  poor,  he  desires  to  send  you  the  en- 
closed, to  be  applied  by  you  in  such  manner  as  you  may  think 
fittest  for  the  good  of  his  native  city.  I  have  added  slightly 
to  my  father's  trust.  I  wish  I  could  have  done  so  more  largely, 
but  my  profession  of  fault-finding  with  the  world  in  general 
is  not  a  lucrative  one. 

Always  respectfully  and  affectionately  yours, 

J.  EUSKIN. 


1  This  letter  accompanied  the  gift  of  a  copy  of  The  Stones  of  Venice, 
sent  to  Dr.  Guthrie  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  who,  while  residing  in  Edinburgh 
during  the  winter  of  1853,  "was  to  be  found  each  Sunday  afternoon  in 
St.  John's  Free  Church. " 


APPENDIX. 


361 


[From  "The  Times,"  March 29,  1859.] 

THE  SALE  OF  MR.  WIND  US'  PICTURES. 

To  the  Editor  of  11  The  Times:' 

Sir  :  Will  you  oblige  me  by  correcting  an  error  in  your 
account  given  this  morning  of  the  sale  of  Mr.  Windus'  pictures 
on  Saturday,  in  which  the  purchase  of  Mr.  Millais's  picture 
"  Pot  Pourri "  is  attributed  to  me  ?  I  neither  purchased  Mr. 
Millais's  picture,  nor  any  other  picture  at  that  sale. 

t  have  the  honor  to  be,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

J.  Euskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  March  28. 


[From  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,"  March  1,  1867.] 

AT  THE  PLAY. 

To  tlie  Editor  of"  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette:' 

Sir  :  I  am  writing  a  series  of  private  letters  on  matters  of 
political  economy  to  a  working  man  in  Newcastle,  without 
objecting  to  his  printing  them,  but  writing  just  as  I  should 
if  they  were  for  his  eye  only.  I  necessarily  take  copies  of 
them  for  reference,  and  the  one  I  sent  him  last  Monday  seems 
to  me  not  unlikely  to  interest  some  of  your  readers  who  care 
about  modern  drama.  So  I  send  you  the  copy  of  it  to  use  if 
you  like.2 

Truly  yours, 

J.  Ruskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  Feb.  28,  1867. 


1  The  collection  of  pictures  belonging  to  Mr.  B.  G.  Windus  was  sold 
by  Messrs.  Christie  and  Man  son  on  March  26,  1859. 

2  The  enclosed  letter  is  Letter  V.  of  Time  and  Tide. 


362 


APPENDIX. 


[Prom  "The  Daily  Telegraph,"  January  22,  1868.] 

AN  OBJECT  OF  CHARITY.1 

To  the  Editor  of  "  The  Daily  Telegraph:' 

Sir  :  Except  in  "  Gil  Bias,"  I  never  read  of  anything  As- 
trsean  on  the  earth  so  perfect  as  the  story  in  your  fourth  arti- 
cle to-day. 

I  send  you  a  check  for  the  Chancellor.  If  40,  in  legal 
terms,  means  400,  you  must  explain  the  further  requirements 
to  your  impulsive  public. 

I  am,  Sir,  your  faithful  servant, 

J.  Ruskin. 

Denmark  Hill,  S.,  Jan.  21,  1868. 


j  EXCUSES  FROM  CORRESPONDENCE. 

j 

Denmark  Hill,  S. , 

2d  February,  1868. 

I  am  about  to  enter  on  some  work  which  cannot  be  well 
done  or  even  approximately  well,  unless  without  interruption, 
and  it  would  be  desirable  for  me,  were  it  in  my  power,  to  leave 
home  for  some  time,  and  carry  out  my  undertaking  in  seclusion. 
But  as  my  materials  are  partly  in  London,  I  cannot  do  this  ; 

JTlie  Daily  Telegraph  of  January  21,  1868,  contained  a  leading  arti- 
cle upon  the  following  facts.  It  appeared  that  a  girl,  named  Matilda 
Griggs,  had  been  nearly  murdered  by  her  seducer,  who,  after  stabbing 
her  in  no  less  than  thirteen  different  places,  had  then  left  her  for  dead. 
She  had,  however,  still  strength  enough  to  crawl  into  a  field  close  by,  and 
there  swooned.  The  assistance  that  she  met  with  in  this  plight  was  or! 
a  rare  kind.  Two  calves  came  up  to  her,  and  disposing  themselves  on 
either  side  of  her  bleeding  body,  thus  kept  her  warm  and  partly  shel- 
tered from  cold  and  rain.  Temporarily  preserved,  the  girl  eventually 
recovered,  and  entered  into  recognizances,  under  the  sum  of  forty 
pounds,  to  prosecute  her  murderous  lover.  But  "  she  loved  much/7 
and,  failing  to  prosecute,  forfeited  her  recognizances,  and  was  impris- 
oned by  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  for  her  debt.  4 '  Pity  this  poor 
debtor,"  wrote  the  Daily  Telegraph,  and  in  the  next  day's  issue  appeared 
the  above  letter,  probably  not  intended  for  the  publication  accorded  to  it. 


APPENDIX. 


3G3 


so  that  my  only  alternative  is  to  ask  you  to  think  of  me  as  if 
actually  absent  from  England,  and  not  to  be  displeased  though 
I  must  decline  all  correspondence.  And  I  pray  you  to  trust 
my  assurance  that,  whatever  reasons  I  may  have  for  so  uncouth 
behavior,  none  of  them  are  inconsistent  with  the  respect  and 
regard  in  which  I  remain, 

Faithfully  yours,1 


[From  "  The  Liverpool  Weekly  Albion,"  November  9,  1872.] 

LETTER  TO  THE  A  UTTIOR  OF  A  REVIEW.* 

Corpus  Christi  College,  Oxford, 
Wednesday,  30th  Oct. 

[My  Dsar]  Sir  :  I  was  on  the  point  of  writing  to  the  Editor 
of  The  Albion  to  ask  the  name  of  the  author  of  that  article.  Of 
course,  one  likes  praise  [and  Tin  so  glad  of  it  that  I  can  take  a 
great  many  kinds],  but  I  never  got  any  [that]  I  liked  so  much 
before,  because,  as  far  as  I  [can]  remember  nobody  ever  noticed 

1  The  above  letter,  printed  as  a  circular,  was  at  one  time  used  by  Mr. 
Ruskin  in  reply  to  part  of  his  large  correspondence.  Some  few  copies 
had  the  date  printed  on  them  as  above.  The  following  is  a  similar  but 
more  recent  excuse,  printed  at  the  end  of  the  last  "  list  of  works  n  issued 
(March,  1880)  by  Mr.  Ruskin1  s  publisher: 

Mr.  Ruskin  has  always  hitherto  found  his  correspondents  under  the 
impression  that,  when  he  is  able  for  average  literary  work,  he  can  also 
answer  any  quantity  of  letters.  He  most  respectfully  and  sorrowfully 
must  pray  them  to  observe,  that  it  is  precisely  when  he  is  in  most  active 
general  occupation  that  he  can  answer  fewest  private  letters  ;  and  this 

year  he  proposes  to  answer  none,  except  those  on  St.  George's  business. 

There  will  be  enough  news  of  him,  for  any  who  care  to  get  them,  in  the 
occasional  numbers  of  "  Fors. " 

'2  The  review  was  the  first  of  three  articles  entitled  "The  Discipline 
of  Art  and  the  Votary  of  Science,"  published  in  the  Liverpool  Weekly 
Albion  of  November  9,  16,  and  23,  1873.  The  first  of  them  had  also 
appeared  previously  in  the  Liverpool  Daily  Albion,  and  was  reprinted 
with  the  present  letter  in  the  weekly  issue  of  Nov.  9.  The  aim  of  the 
articles  was  partly  to  show  how  the  question  "What  is  Art  ?  "  involved 
a  second  and  deeper  inquiry,  "  What  is  Man  ?  "  The  words  bracketed 
here  were  omitted  in  the  Albion,  but  occur  in  the  original  letter,  for 
access  to  which  I  have  to  thank  the  writer  of  the  articles. 


364 


APPENDIX. 


or  allowed  for  the  range  of  work  I've  had  to  do,  and  which  really 
has  been  dreadfully  costly  and  painful  to  me,  compelling  me  to 
leave  things  just  at  the  point  when  one's  work  on  them  has 
become  secure  and  delightsome,  to  attack  them  on  another 
rough  side.  It  is  a  most  painful  manner  of  life,  and  I  never 
got  any  credit  for  it  before.  But  the  more  I  see,  the  more  I 
feel  the  necessity  of  seeing  all  round,  however  hastily. 

I  am  entirely  grateful  for  the  review  and  the  understanding 
of  me  ;  and  I  needed  some  help  just  now — for  I'm  at  once 
single-handed  and  dead — or  worse — hearted,  and  as  nearly 
beaten  as  I've  been  in  my  life. 

Always  therefore  I  shall  be,  for  the  encouragement  at  a 
heavy  time, 

Very  gratefully  yours, 

(Signed)       J.  Buskin. 


[From  "The  Globe,"  October  29,  1874.] 

AN  OXFORD  PROTEST.* 

The  Slade  Professor  has  tried  for  five  years  to  please  every- 
body in  Oxford  by  lecturing  at  any  time  that  might  be  con- 
veniently subordinate  to  other  dates  of  study  in  the  University. 
He  finds  he  has  pleased  nobody,  and  must  for  the  future  at 
least  make  his  hour  known  and  consistent.  He  cannot  alter  it 
this  term  because  people  sometimes  come  from  a  distance  and 
have  settled  their  plans  by  the  hours  announced  in  the  Gazette, 
but  for  many  reasons  he  thinks  it  right  to  change  the  place, 
and  will  hereafter  lecture  in  the  theatre  of  the  museum.2  On 
Friday  the  30th  he  will  not  begin  till  half -past  twelve  to  allow 
settling  time.  Afterwards,  all  his  lectures  will  be  at  twelve  in 
this  and  future  terms.  He  feels  that  if  he  cannot  be  granted 
so  much  as  twelve  hours  of  serious  audience  in  working  time 

1  Mr.  Ruskin  had  recently  changed  the  hour  of  his  lectures  from 
two  to  twelve,  and  the  latter  hour  clashing  with  other  lectures,  some 
complaints  had  been  made.  This  "protest"  was  then  issued  on  the 
morning  of  October  29  and  reprinted  in  the  Globe  of  the  same  day. 

2  Instead  of  in  the  drawing  schools  at  the  Taylor  Gallery. 


APPENDIX, 


0G5 


during  the  whole  Oxford  year,  he  need  not  in  future  prepare 
public  lectures  at  which  his  pupils  need  not  much  regret  their 
non-attendance. 


[From  "  The  Standard, "  August  28,  1877.  Reprinted  in  the  "Notes and  Correspondence " 
to  "  Fors  Clavigera,1'  Letter  lxxxi.,  September,  1877,  vol.  iv.,  p.  104.] 

MR.  B  USKIN  AND  MB.  L  0  WE. 

To  the  Editor  of  11  The  Standard:' 

Sir  :  My  attention  has  been  directed  to  an  article  in  your 
columns  of  the  22d  inst.,  referring  to  a  supposed  correspond- 
ence between  Mr.  Lowe  and  me.1  Permit  me  to  state  that  the 
letter  in  question  is  not  Mr.  Lowe's.  The  general  value  of 
your  article  as  a  review  of  my  work  and  methods  of  writing 
will,  I  trust,  rather  be  enhanced  than  diminished  by  the  cor- 
rection, due  to  Mr.  Lowe,  of  this  original  error  ;  and  the  more, 
that  your  critic  in  the  course  of  his  review  expresses  his  not 
unjustifiable  conviction  that  no  correspondence  between  Mr. 
Lowe  and  me  is  possible  on  any  intellectual  subject  whatever- 
I  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

John  Buskin 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire, 
August  24. 


[From  the  List  of  f*  Mr.  Shepherd's  Publications  "  printed  at  the  end  of  his  "  The  Bibli* 
ography  of  Dickens,"'  1S80.] 

THE  BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  BUSKIN. 
I. 

Brantwood,  Coniston, 
Sept.  30,  1878. 

Dear  Sir  :  So  far  from  being  distasteful  to  me,  your  perfect 
reckoning  up  of  me  not  only  flatters  my  vanity  extremely,  but 

1  The  article  in  question  stated  that  a  number  of  Fors  Clavigera  had 
been  sent  to  Mr.  Lowe,  and  commented  on  by  him  in  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Ruskin.  The  last  words  of  the  article,  alluded  to  above,  were  as  fol- 
lows :  '  ■  The  world  will  be  made  no  wiser  by  any  controversy  between 
Mr.  Ruskin  and  Mr.  Lowe,  for  it  would  be  impossible  to  reduce  their 
figures  or  facts  to  a  common  denominator. " 


3G6 


APPENDIX. 


will  be  in  the  highest  degree  useful  to  myself.  But  you  know 
so  much  more  about  me  than  I  now  remember  about  any- 
thing, that  I  can't  find  a  single  thing  to  correct  or  add — glanc-r 
ing  through  at  least. 

I  will  not  say  that  you  have  wasted  your  time  ;  but  I  may 
at  least  regret  the  quantity  of  trouble  the  book  must  have 
given  you,  and  am,  therefore,  somewhat  ashamedly,  but  very 
gratefully  yours, 

J.  EUSKIN. 

R.  H.  Shepherd,  Esq. 

ii. 

Brantwood,  Coniston, 
Oct.  23,  1878. 

Dear  Mr.  Shepherd  :  I  am  very  deeply  grateful  to  you,  as 
I  am  in  all  duty  bound,  for  this  very  curious  record  of  myself. 
It  will  be  of  extreme  value  to  me  in  filling  up  what  gaps  I  can 
in  this  patched  coverlid  of  my  life  before  it  is  draped  over  my 
coffin — if  it  may  be. 

I  am  especially  glad  to  have  note  of  the  letters  to  news- 
papers, but  most  chiefly  to  have  the  good  news  of  so  earnest 
and  patient  a  friend.  Ever  gratefully  yours, 

J.  RlTSKIN. 


[From  the  "First  Annual  Report"  of  the  "  Ruskin  Society1'  (of  the  Rose;,  Manchester, 

1880.] 

THE  SOCIETY  OF  THE  BOSK1 

"  No,  indeed,  I  don't  want  to  discourage  the  plan  you  have 
so  kindly  and  earnestly  formed,  but  I  could  not  easily  or  dec- 
orously promote  it  myself,  could  I  ?  But  I  fully  proposed  to 
write  you  a  letter  to  be  read  at  the  first  meeting,  guarding 
you  especially  against  an  £  ism,'  or  a  possibility  of  giving  occa- 
sion for  one  ;  and  I  am  exceedingly  glad  to  receive  your 
present  letter.  Mine  was  not  written  because  it  gave  me 
trouble  to  think  of  it,  and  I  can't  take  trouble  now.  But 

1  This  letter  was  written  early  in  1879  to  the  Secretary  ))vo  tern,  of  the 
Ruskin  Society  of  Manchester,  in  reply  to  a  request  io\  Mr.  Ruskiu« 
views  upon  the  formation  of  such  a  Society. 


APPENDIX. 


without  thinking*,  I  can  at  once  assure  you  that  the  taking  of 
the  name  of  St.  George  ivould  give  me  endless  trouble,  and 
cause  all  manner  of  mistakes,  and  perhaps  even  legal  difficul- 
ties.   We  must  not  have  that,  please. 

"  But  I  think  you  might  with  grace  and  truth  take  the  name 
of  the  Society  of  the  Kose — meaning  the  English  wild  rose — ■ 
and  that  the  object  of  the  society  would  be  to  promote  such 
English  learning  and  life  as  can  abide  where  it  grows.  You 
see  it  is  the  heraldic  sign  on  my  books,  so  that  you  might 
still  keep  pretty  close  to  me. 

"  Supposing  this  were  thought  too  far-fetched  or  sentimen- 
tal by  the  promoters  of  the  society,  I  think  the  c  More '  Society 
would  be  a  good  name,  following  out  the  teaching  of  the 
Utopia  as  it  is  taken  up  in  'Fors.'  I  can't  write  more  to-day, 
but  I  dare  say  something  else  may  come  into  my  head,  and 
I'll  write  again,  or  you  can  send  me  more  names  for  choice/ 


[From  "  The  Autographic  Mirror,"  December  23  and  3(1,  1805,] 

LETTER  TO  W.  M  HARRISON1 

Dear  Mr.  Harrison  :  The  plate  I  send  is  unluckily  merely 
outlined  in  its  principal  griffin  (it  is  just  being  finished),  but 
it  may  render  your  six  nights'  work  a  little  more  amusing.  I 
don't  want  it  back. 

1  A  facsimile  of  this  letter,  from  a  collection  of  autographs  in  the  pos- 
session of  Mr.  T.  F.  Dillon  Croker,  appeared  in  the  above-named  issue  of 
the  Autographic  Mirror.  The  subject  of  the  letter  will  be  made  clearer 
by  the  following  passages  from  Mr.  Buskin's  reminiscence  of  Mr.  Will* 
iam  Henry  Harrison,  published  in  the  University  Magazine  of  April, 
1878,  under  the  title  of  "  My  First  Editor."— ' ' 1st  February,  1878.  in 
seven  days  more  I  shall  be  fifty-nine  ;  which  (practically)  is  all  the  same 
as  sixty  ;  but  being  asked  by  the  wife  of  my  dear  old  friend,  W.  H. 
Harrison,  to  say  a  few  words  of  our  old  relations  together,  I  find  myself, 
in  spite  of  all  these  years,  a  boy  again — partly  in  the  mere  thought  of, 
and  renewed  sympathy  with,  the  cheerful  heart  of  my  old  literary  mas- 
ter, and  partly  in  instinctive  terror  lest,  wherever  he  is  in  celestial  cir- 
cles, he  should  catch  me  writing  bad  grammar,  or  putting  wrong  stops, 
and  should  set  the  table  turning,  or  the  like.    ,    .    .    Not  a  book  of 


368 


APPENDIX. 


Never  mind  putting  "see  to  quotations/'  as  I  always  do. 
And,  in  the  second  revise,  don't  look  to  all  my  alterations  to 
tick  them  off,  but  merely  read  straight  through  the  new  proof 
to  see  if  any  mistake  strikes  you.  This  will  be  more  useful 
to  me  than  the  other. 

Most  truly  yours,  with  a  thousand  thanks, 

J.  RuSKIIi. 

[From  the  **  Journal  of  Dramatic  Reform,"  November,  1880.] 

DRAMA  TIG  REFORM. 1 

id 

My  dear  Sir  :  Yes,  I  began  writing  something — a  year  ago, 
is  it? — on  your  subject,  but  have  lost  it,  and  am  now  utterly 
too  busy  to  touch  so  difficult  and  so  important  a  subject.  I 
shall  come  on  it,  some  day,  necessarily. 

Meantime,  the  one  thing  I  have  to  say  mainly  is  that  the 
idea  of  making  money  by  a  theatre,  and  making  it  educational 
at  the  same  time,  is  utterly  to  be  got  out  of  people's  heads. 
You  don't  make  money  out  of  a  Ship  of  the  Line,  nor  should 
you  out  of  a  Church,  nor  should  you  out  of  a  College,  nor 
should  you  out  of  a  Theatre. 

Pay  your  Ship's  officers,  your  Church  officers,  your  College 
tutors,  and  your  Stage  tutors,  what  will  honorably  maintain 
them.  Let  there  be  no  starring  on  the  Stage  boards,  more 
than  on  the  deck,  but  the  Broadside  well  delivered. 

mine,  for  good  thirty  years,  but  went,  every  word  of  it,  under  his  care- 
ful eyes  twice  over — often  also  the  last  revises  left  to  his  tender  mercy 
altogether  on  condition  he  wouldn't  bother  me  any  more." — The  book 
to  which  the  letter  refers  may  be  the  Stones  of  Venice,  and  the  plate 
sent  the  third  (Noble  and  Ignoble  Grotesque),  in  the  last  volume  of  that 
work  ;  and  if  this  be  so,  the  letter  was  probably  written  from  Heme 
Hill  about  1852-3. 

1  This  and  the  following  letter  were  both  addressed  to  Mr.  John  Stuart 
Bogg,  the  Secretary  of  the  Dramatic  Reform  Association  of  Manchester. 
The  first  was  a  reply  to  a  request  that  Mr.  Ruskin  would,  in  accordance 
with  an  old  promise,  write  something  on  the  subject  of  the  Drama  foi 
the  Society's  journal  ;  and  the  second  was  added  by  its  author  on  hear* 
lug  that  it  was  the  wish  of  the  Society  to  publish  the  first. 


APPENDIX, 


369 


And  let  the  English  Gentleman  consider  with  himself  what 
he  has  got  to  teach  the  people  :  perhaps  then,  he  may  tell  the 
English  Actor  what  he  has  to  teach  them. 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

(Signed)  J.  Ruskik. 

Brantwood,  July  80^,  1880. 

ii. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  heartily  glad  you  think  my  letter  may 
be  of  some  use.  I  wish  it  had  contained  the  tenth  part  of 
what  I  wanted  to  say. 

May  I  ask  you  at  least  to  add  this  note  to  it,  to  tell  how  in- 
dignant I  was,  a  few  days  ago,  to  see  the  drop-scene  (!)  of  the 
Folies  at  Paris  composed  of  huge  advertisements !  The  ghastly 
want  of  sense  of  beauty,  and  endurance  of  loathsomeness  gain- 
ing hourly  on  the  people  ! 

They  were  playing  the  Mile  du  Tambour  Major  superbly, 
for  the  most  part ;  they  gave  the  introductory  convent  scene 
without  the  least  caricature,  the  Abbess  being  played  by  a  very 
beautiful  and  gracefully-mannered  actress,  and  the  whole  thing 
would  have  been  delightful  had  the  mere  decorations  of  the 
theatre  been  clean  and  pretty.  To  think  that  all  the  strength 
of  the  world  combining  in  Paris  to  amuse  itself  can't  have 
clean  box-curtains !  or  a  pretty  landscape  sketch  for  a  drop 
scene  ! — but  sits  in  squalor  and  dismalness,  with  bills  stuck  all 
over  its  rideau  ! 

I  saw  Le  Chalet  here  last  night,  in  many  respects  well  played 
and  sung,  and  it  is  a  quite  charming  little  opera  in  its  story, 
only  it  requires  an  actress  of  extreme  refinement  for  the  main 
part,  and  everybody  last  night  sang  too  loud.  There  is  no 
music  of  any  high  quality  in  it,  but  the  piece  is  one  which, 
played  with  such  delicacy  as  almost  any  clever,  wellbred  girl 
could  put  into  the  heroine's  part  (if  the  audiences  would  look 
for  acting  more  than  voice),  ought  to  be  extremely  delightful 
to  simple  persons. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  heard  William  Tell  entirely  massacred 
at  the  great  opera-house  at  Paris.  My  belief  is  they  scarcely 
sang  a  piece  of  pure  Rossini  all  night,  but  had  fitted  in -mod- 


370 


APPENDIX. 


ern  skimble-skamble  tunes,  and  quite  unspeakably  clumsy  and 
common  ballet.  I  scarcely  came  away  in  better  humor  from 
the  mouthed  tediousness  of  Gerin  at  the  Franpais,  but  they 
took  pains  with  it,  and  I  suppose  it  pleased  a  certain  class  of 
audience.    The  William  Tell  could  please  nobody  at  heart. 

The  libretto  of  Jean  de  Neville  is  very  beautiful,  and  ought 
to  have  new  music  written  for  it.  Anything  so  helplessly  tune- 
less as  its  present  music  I  never  heard,  except  mosquitoes  and 
cicadas. 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

(Signed)  J.  Buskin. 

Amiens,  October  12th,  1880. 


[From  the  "  Glasgow  Herald,"  October  7,  1880.] 

THE  LORD  RECTORSHIP  OF  GLASGOW  UNIVERSITY.1 

I. 

Bkantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire,  10th  June,  1880. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  greatly  nattered  by  your  letter,  but 
there  are  two  reasons  why  I  can't  stand — the  first,  that  though 
I  believe  myself  the  stanchest  Conservative  in  the  British 
Islands,  I  hold  some  opinions,  and  must  soon  clearly  utter 
them,  concerning  both  lands  and  rents,  which  I  fear  the  Con- 
servative Club  would  be  very  far  from  sanctioning,  and  think 
Mr.  Bright  himself  had  been  their  safer  choice.  The  second, 
that  I  am  not  in  the  least  disposed  myself  to  stand  in  any 
contest  where  it  is  possible  that  Mr.  Bright  might  beat  me. 

Are  there  really  no  Scottish  gentlemen  of  birth  and  learn- 
ing from  whom  you  could  choose  a  Rector  worthier  than  Mr. 
Bright  ?  and  better  able  than  any  Southron  to  rectify  what 

1  Of  these  letters  it  should  be  noted  that  the  first  was  written  to  the 
President  of  the  Conservative  Club  upon  his  requesting  Mr.  Ruskin  to 
stand  for  the  Lord  Rectorship ;  the  second  in  answer  to  a  hope  that  Mr. 
Ruskin  would  reconsider  the  decision  he  had  expressed  in  his  reply  \ 
and  the  third  upon  the  receipt  of  a  letter  explaining  what  the  duties  of 
the  office  were.  The  fourth  letter  refers  to  one  which  dealt  with  some 
reflections  made  by  the  Liberal  Club  upon  the  former  conduct  of  their 
opponents. 


APPENDIX. 


371 


might  be  oblique,  or  hold  straight  what  wasn't  yet  so,  in  a 
Scottish  University  ? 

Might  I  ask  the  favor  of  the  transmission  of  a  copy  of  this 
letter  to  the  Independent  Club  ?  It  will  save  me  the  diffi- 
culty of  repetition  in  other  terms.  And  believe  me,  my  dear 
sir,  always  the  club's  and  your  faithful  servant, 

(Signed)  J.  Buskin. 

Matt.  P.  Fraser,  Esq. 

ii. 

13^  June,  1880. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  too  tired  at  this  moment  (I  mean  this 
day  or  two  back)  to  be  able  to  think.  My  health  may  break 
down  any  day,  and  I  cannot  bear  a  sense  of  having  to  do  any- 
thing. If  you  would  take  me  on  condition  of  my  residence 
for  a  little  while  with  you,  and  giving  a  little  address  to  the 
students  after  I  had  seen  something  of  them,  I  think  I  could 
come,  but  I  won't  stand  ceremonies  nor  make  long  speeches, 
and  you  really  should  try  to  get  somebody  else. 

Ever  respectfully  yours, 

(Signed)  J.  Ruskin. 

Matt.  P.  Fraser,  Esq. 

hi. 

Mih  June,  1880. 

My  dear  Sir  :  I  am  grieved  at  my  own  vacillation,  and  fear 
it  is  more  vanity  than  sense  of  duty  in  which  I  leave  this  mat- 
ter of  nomination  to  your  own  pleasure.  But  I  had  rather 
err  in  vanity  than  in  heartlessness,  and  so  will  do  my  best  for 
you  if  you  want  me. 

Ever  respectfully  yours, 

(Signed)  J.  Ruskin. 

IV. 

Rouen,  2Sth  September,  1880. 
Sir  :  I  am  obliged  by  your  letter,  but  can  absolutely  pay  no 
regard  to  anything  said  or  done  by  Mr.  Bright's  Committee 
beyond  requesting  my  own  committees  to  print  for  their  in- 
spection— or  their  use — in  any  way  they  like,  every  word  of 
every  letter  I  haVe  written  to  my  supporters,  or  non-support* 


372 


APPENDIX. 


ers,  or  any  other  person  in  Glasgow,  so  far  as  such  letters  may 
be  recoverable.  Faithfully  yours, 

(Signed)  J.  Buskin. 

Matt.  P.  Fraser,  Esq. 

v.1 

[From  "The  Glasgow  Herald,"  October  12,  1880.] 

Brantwood,  Coniston,  Lancashire. 

My  dear  Sir  :  What  in  the  devil's  name  have  you  to  do 
with  either  Mr.  Disraeli  or  Mr.  Gladstone?  You  are  stu- 
dents at  the  University,  and  have  no  more  business  with  poli- 
tics than  you  have  with  rat-catching. 

Had  you  ever  read  ten  words  of  mine  [with  understanding] 
you  would  have  known  that  I  care  no  more  [either]  for  Mr. 
Disraeli  or  Mr.  Gladstone  than  for  two  old  bagpipes  with  the 
drones  going  by  steam,  but  that  I  hate  all  Liberalism  as  I  do 
Beelzebub,  and  that,  with  Carlyle,  I  stand,  we  two  alone  now 
in  England,  for  God  and  the  Queen. 

Ever  faithfully  yours, 

J.  KUSKIN. 

Alex.  Mitchell,  Esq.  ,  Avoch,  by  Inverness. 

P.S. — You  had  better,  however,  ask  the  Conservatives  for  a 
copy  of  my  entire  letters  to  them. 

1  Upon  the  terms  of  this  letter,  which  was  written  in  answer  to  a  ques- 
tion whether  Mr.  Ruskin  sympathized  with  Lord  Beaconsfield  or  with 
Mr.  Gladstone,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  Epilogue.  The  bracketed 
words  were  omitted  in  the  Glasgow  Herald. 


EPILOGUE. 


I  find  my  immitigable  Editor  insists  on  epilogue  as  well 
as  prologue  from  his  submissive  Author  ;  which  would  have 
fretted  me  a  little,  since  the  last  letter  of  the  series  appears  to 
me  a  very  pretty  and  comprehensive  sum  of  the  matters  in 
the  book,  had  not  the  day  on  which,  as  Fors  would  have  it,  I 
am  to  write  its  last  line,  brought  to  my  mind  something  of 
importance  which  I  forgot  to  say  in  the  preface  ;  nor  will  it 
perhaps  be  right  to  leave  wholly  without  explanation  the  short 
closing  letter  to  which  I  have  just  referred. 

It  should  be  observed  thai  it  was  written  to  the  President 
of  the  Liberal  party  of  the  Glasgow  students,  in  answer  to  the 
question  which  I  felt  to  be  wholly  irrelevant  to  the  business 
in  hand,  and  which  could  not  have  been  answered  in  anything 
like  official  terms  with  anything  short  of  a  forenoon's  work.  I 
gave  the  answer,  therefore,  in  my  own  terms,  not  in  the  least 
petulant,  but  chosen  to  convey  as  much  information  as  I  could 
in  the  smallest  compass  ;  and  carrying  it  accurately  faceted 
and  polished  on  the  angles. 

For  instance,  I  never,  under  any  conditions  of  provocation 
or  haste,  would  have  said  that  I  hated  Liberalism  as  I  did 
Mammon,  or  Belial,  or  Moloch.  I  chose  the  milder  fiend  of 
Ekron,  as  the  true  exponent  and  patron  of  Liberty,  the  God 
of  Flies ;  and  if  my  Editor,  in  final  kindness,  can  refer  the 
reader  to  the  comparison  of  the  House-fly  and  House-dog,  in 
(he,  and  not  I,  must  say  where)  1  the  letter  will  have  received 
all  the  illustration  which  I  am  minded  to  give  it.  I  was  only 
surprised  that  after  its  publication,  of  course  never  intended, 


1  See  The  Queen  of  the  Air,  §§  148-152  (1874  Ed.). 


374 


EPILOGUE. 


though  never  forbidden  by  me,  it  passed  with  so  little  chal* 
lenge,  and  was,  on  the  whole,  understood  as  it  was  meant. 

The  more  important  matter  I  have  to  note  in  closing,  is  the 
security  given  to  the  conclusions  arrived  at  in  many  subjects 
treated  of  in  these  letters,  in  consequence  of  the  breadth  of 
the  basis  on  which  the  reasoning  is  founded.  The  multipli- 
city of  subject,  and  opposite  directions  of  investigation,  which 
have  so  often  been  alleged  against  me,  as  if  sources  of  weak- 
ness, are  in  reality,  as  the  multiplied  buttresses  of  the  apse  of 
Amiens,  as  secure  in  allied  result  as  they  are  opposed  in  di- 
rection. Whatever  (for  instance)  I  have  urged  in  economy 
has  ten  times  the  force  when  it  is  remembered  to  have  been 
pleaded  for  by  a  man  loving  the  splendor,  and  advising  the 
luxury  of  ages  which  overlaid  their  towers  with  gold,  and 
their  walls  with  ivory.  No  man,  oftener  than  I,  has  had  cast 
in  his  teeth  the  favorite  adage  of  the  insolent  and  the  feeble — 
"  ne  sutor."  But  it  has  always  been  forgotten  by  the  speakers 
that,  although  the  proverb  might  on  some  occasions  be  wisely 
spoken  by  an  artist  to  a  cobbler,  it  could  never  be  wisely  spoken 
by  a  cobbler  to  an  artist. 

J.  RuSKIN. 

Amiens,  St.  Crispin's  Bay,  1880. 


376  CHBONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  THE  LETTERS 

Note.— In  the  second  and  third  columns  the  bracketed  words  and  figures  are  more  or 


Title  of  Letter. 


A  Landslip  near  Giagnano  

Modern  Painters  :  a  Reply  , 

Art  Criticism   

On  Reflections  in  Water   , 

Danger  to  the  National  Gallery . . 
The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren,  I. 
The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren,  II. 
Letter  to  W.  C.  Bennett,  LL.D.. 

The  National  Gallery  

Letter  to  Dr.  Guthrie  


Letter  to  W.  H.  Harrison  , 


"  The  Light  of  the  World  "  

"  The  Awakening  Conscience  "  

"  Limner  "  and  Illumination  

The  Animals  of  Scripture  :  a  Review  

The  Turner  Bequest  

On  the  Gentian  

The  Turner  Bequest  &  National  Gallery. .  . . 

The  Castle  Rock  (Edinburgh)  

The  Arts  as  a  Branch  of  Education  

Edinburgh  Castle  

The  Character  of  Turner  

Pre-Raphaelitism  in  Liverpool  

Generalization  &  Scotch  Pre-Raphaelites  .  . . 
Gothic  Architecture  &  Oxford  Museum,  I. . . 

The  Turner  Sketches  and  Drawings  

Turner's  Sketch  Book  (extract)  

The  Liber  Studiorum  (extract)  

Gothic  Architecture  &  Oxford  Museum,  II. 

The  Sale  of  Mr.  Windus'  Pictures  

The  Italian  Question  


The  Turner  Gallery  at  Kensington  

Coventry  Patmore's  lk  Faithful  for  Ever  "  

Mr.  Thornbury's  "  Life  of  Turner  rt  (extract) 

Art  Teaching  by  Correspondence  

On  the  Reflection  of  Rainbows  

Proverbs  on  Right  Dress  , 

Oak  Silkworms  

The  Depreciation  of  Gold  , 

The  Foreign  Policy  of  England  

The  Position  of  Denmark  

The  Law  of  Supply  and  Demand  


The  Conformation  of  the  Alps. 

Concerning  Glaciers  

English  versus  Alpine  Geology . 

Concerning  Hydrostatics  

Strikes  v.  Arbitration  

Work  and  Wages  


Where  Written. 


Naples   

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Heme  Hill,  Dulwich. 
Heme  Hill,  Dulwich. . 
[Edinburgh]  

[Heme  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill  

Dunbar  

Penrith  

Penrith  

[   

[   

[   

[   

c   

[   

[   

[  J  

Denmark  Hill  

Berlin  

Berlin  

Schaffhausen  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Lucerne  

Denmark  Hill  

C  ]  

Geneva  

Geneva  

Chamounix  

Zurich   

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

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Norwich  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  

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[Denmark  Hill]  


CONTAINED  IN  BOTH  VOLUMES.  377 

less  certainly  conjecttired ;  whilst  those  unbracketed  give  the  actual  dating  of  the  letter. 


When  Written. 


February  7,  1841  

About  Sept.  17,  1848] .... 

December,  1843]  

January,  1844]  

January  6  [1847]  

May  9  [1851]  

May  ;:6  [1851]  

December  28th,  1852  

December  27  [1852]   

Saturday,    26th  [Nov.  ?] 

1853  

1853]  

May  4  [1854]   

May  24  [1854]  

December  3,  1854]  

January,  1855]  

October  27  [1856]  

February  10  [1857]  

July  8,  1857]  

14th  September,  1857  .... 

September  25,  1857  

27th  September  [1857].... 

1857]  

January,  1 858]  

March,  1858]  

June,  1858]  

November,  1858]   

]  1858  

]  1858  

January  20,  1859  

March  28  [1859]  

June  6,  1859   

June  15  [1859]  

August  1,  1859  

October  20  [3  859]  

[October  21,  1860]  

December  2,  1861  

November,  1860  

7th  May,  1861  

October  20th,  1862  

October  20th  [1862]  

October  2  [1863]  

October  25th,  1863  

July  6  [1864]  

October  26  [1864]  

October  29  [1864]  

November  2  [1864]  

10th  November,  1864  

November  21  [1864]  

29th  November  [1 864] 

5th  December  [1864]  

Easter  Monday,  1865  

Thursday,  April  20  [1865] 
Saturday,  April  22,  1865. . 
Saturday,  29th  April,  1865 


Vol  and 
Page. 


Proceedings  of  the  Ashmolean  Society. . . 
The  Weekly  Chronicle,  Sept.  23,  1843. . . . 
The  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine,  1844 
The  Artist  and  Amateur's  Magazine,  1844 

The  Times,  January  7,  1847  

The  Times,  May  13,  1851  

The  Times,  May  30,  1851  

"Testimonials  of  W.  C.  Bennett,"  1871.. 

The  Times,  December  29,  1852   

" Memoir  of  Thomas  Guthrie,  D.D.," 

(1875)  

The  Autographic  Mirror,  December  23, 

1865   

The  Times,  May  15,  1854  

The  Times,  May  25, 1854  

The  Builder,  December  9, 1854  

The  Morning  Chronicle,  January  20,  1855 

The  Times,  October  28,  1856  

The  Athenaeum,  February  14,  ]  857  

The  Times,  July  9,  1857  

The  Witness  (Edinburgh),  Sept.  16,  1857 
44  New  Oxford  Examinations,  etc.,"  1858 
The  Witness  (Edinburgh),  Sept.  30, 1857. 
Thornbury's  Life  of  Turner.  Pref.  1861  . 
The  Liverpool  Albion,  January  11,  1858  . 
The  Witness  (Edinburgh),  March  27, 1858 

41  The  Oxford  Museum,"  1859  

The  Literary  Gazette,  Nov.  13,  1858  

List  of  Turner's  Drawings,  Boston,  1874. 
List  of  Turner's  Drawings,  Boston,  1S74. 

44  The  Oxford  Museum,"  1859  

The  Times,  March  29,  1859  

The  Scotsman,  July  20,  1859   

July  23,  1859   

44  Aug.  6,  1859   .. 

The  Times,  October  21, 1859  

The  Critic,  Oct.  27,  1860  

Thornbury's  Life  of  Turner.    Ed.  2,  Pref. 

Nature  and  Art,  December  1,  1866   

The  London  Review,  May  16,  1861   

The  Monthly  Packet,  Nov.  1863   

The  Times,  Oct.  24,  1862  

The  Times,  Oct.  8,  1863  

The  Liverpool  Albion,  Nov.  2,  1863  

The  Morning  Post,  July  7, 1864  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Oct.  28,  1864  

Oct.  31,  1864  

4  4         4  4  Nov.  3,  1864  

The  Reader,  November  12,  1864  

The  Reader,  November  26,  1864  

The  Reader,  December  3, 1864   

The  Reader,  December  10,  1864  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  April  18,  1865 ... . 

April  21,  1865.... 

4  4  44  April  25,  1865.... 

44  44  May  2,  1865  


i.197 
i.17 
i.24 

i.  186 
i.47 
i.66 
i.70 

ii.  359 
i.56 

ii.360 


i.84 
i.198 

i.87 
i.143 

i.39 
i.144 
i.110 

i.79 

i.81 
i.122 

i.91 

i.88«L 
LlOOw, 

i.  128 

ii.  361 
ii.209 
ii.214 
ii.219 
i.lOL 

ii.346 

i.  lll 
i.46 

i.  196 

ii.  336 

ii.  340 
ii.240 
ii.22i 
ii.223 
ii.241 
ii.243 
ii.246 
i.169 
i.171 
i.177 

i.  181 

ii.  249 
ii.251 
ii.253 
ii.255 


378  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  THE  LETTERS 


Title  of  Letter. 


Work  and  Wages  

Domestic  Servants — Mastership  

u  "  Experience  

"  "  Sonship  and  Slavery 

Modern  Houses  

Our  Railway  System  

The  Jamaica  Insurrection  

The  British  Museum  

Copies  of  Turner's  Drawings  (extract) . . . 

At  the  Play  

The  Standard  of  Wages  

An  Object  of  Charity  

True  Education  , 

Excuse  from  Correspondence  , 

Is  England  Big  Enough  ?  

The  Ownership  of  Railways  , 

Railway  Economy  

Employment  for  the  Destitute  Poor,  etc. . 

Notes  on  the  Destitute  Classes,  etc  

The  Morality  of  Field  Sports  

Female  Franchise  

The  Franco-Prussian  War  

U  U  ft 

Sad-Colored  Costumes  

Railway  Safety  , 

A  King's  First  Duty  , 

Notre  Dame  de  Paris  

A  Nation's  Defences  

"  Turners  "  False  and  True  ; 

The  Waters  of  Comfort  , 

The  Streams  of  Italy  

Woman's  Sphere  (extract)  

The  41  Queen  of  the  Air"  

Drunkenness  and  Crime  , 

Castles  and  Kennels  , 

Verona  v.  Warwick  , 

Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence  :  a  Defence  

Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence  :  a  Rejoinder  

John  Leech's  Outlines  

The  Streets  of  London  

Madness  and  Crime  , 

Letter  to  the  Author  of  a  Review  , 

41  Act,  Act  in  the  Living  Present"  

How  the  Rich  spend  their  Money  

u  it  u 

Woman's  Work  

Mr.  Ruskin  and  Professor  Hodgson  

"  Laborare  est  Orare  "  

Ernest  George's  Etchings  

James  David  Forbes  :  his  Real  Greatness 
The  Value  of  Lectures  


Where  Written. 


Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Denmark  Hill  „ 

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[   

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill,  S  

Denmark  Hill,  S  

Denmark  Hill,  S  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill,  S.E  

[Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

V^enice  . 

Denmark  HilY,  S.  E. '. \ 
[Denmark  Hill,  S.E.].. 

Denmark  Hill,  S.E  

Denmark  Hill  

[Denmark  Hill]  

[Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill  

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Oxford  

Oxford  

[Oxford  

[Denmark  Hill]  

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Denmark  Hill  

Denmark  Hill,  S.E  

Denmark  Hill  

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[  

[Denmark  Hill]  

Oxford  

Oxford  

Oxford  

Brantwood,  Coniston. . . 
[Brantwood,  Coniston] . 
Brantwood,  Coniston . . . 

c  ]  

Oxford  

Oxford  

Oxford  

[Denmark  Hill  

c   

Rome  


CONTAINED  IN  BOTH  VOLUMES. 


379 


When  Written. 


May  4  [1865]  

May  20,  1865  

September  2  [1865]  

September  6  [1865]  

September  16,  1865]  

October  16  [1865]  

December  7  [1865]  

December  19  [1865]  

Jan.  26  [1866]  

]  1867  

February  28,  1867  

April  30,  1867  

January  21,  1868  

January  31,  1868  

2d  February,  1868  

July  30  [1868]  

August  5  [1868]  

August  9  [1868]  

December  24  [1868]  

Autumn,  1868]  

January  14  [1«70]  

29th  May,  1870  

October  6  [1870]  

October  7  [1870]  

14th  October,  1870  

November  29,  1870  

January  10  [1871]  

January  18,  1871]  

January  19,  1871  

January  23  [1871]  

February  3  [1871]  

February3  [1871]  

February  19,  1871]  

May  18,  1871  

December  9  [1871]  

December  20  [1871]  

24th  (for  25th)  Dec.  [1871] 

March  15  [1872]  

March  21  [1872]  

1872]  

December  27,  1871  

November  2  [1872]  

Wednesday,    October  30 

[1872]   

Christmas  Eve,  '72  

January  23  [1873]  

January  28  [1873]  , 

King  Charles  the  Martyr, 

1873  

[May,  1873]  

November  8,  1873  

November  15,  1873  

December,  1873  

December,  1873]  

1874]  

26th  May,  1874  


Where  and  when  first  Published. 


Vol  and 
Page. 


The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  May  9,  1865  

May  22, 1865   

The  Daily  Telegraph,  September  5,  1865. 
"  tk         September  7,  1865. 

"  "         September  18,  1865 

"  u         October  17,  1865.. 

"  "         December  8, 1865.. 

u  11         December  20, 1865. 

The  Times,  January  27,  1866  

List  of  Turner's  Drawings,  Boston,  1874. 
The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  March  1,  1867. . . . 

May  1,1867  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  January  22,  1868.. 
The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  January  31,  1868. . 

Circular  printed  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  1868  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  July  31,  1868  

August  6,  1868  

"  "         August  10,1868.... 
u         "         December  26, 1868. . 
Pamphlet  for  private  circulation,  1868. . . 
The  Daily  Telegraph,  January  15,  1870. . . 
Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown. . 

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Oct.  7,  1870.,  

"         ki  Oct.  8,  1870  

Macmillan's  Magazine,  Nov.  1870  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Nov.  30,  1870  

"  "  January  12, 1871  .. 

"  u  January  19,  1871  .. 

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Jan.  19, 1871  

The  Times,  January  24,  1871  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Feb.  4,  1871  

Feb.  7,  1871  

u  Feb.  21, 1871  

The  Asiatic,  May  23,  1871  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  Dec.  11,  1871  

u  u  December  22,  1871 

u  December  25,  1871 

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  March  16,  1872  . . 

"  March  21,  1872  .. 

The  Catalogue  to  the  Exhibition,  1872 

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Dec.  28,  1871  

Nov.  4, 1872  


Liverpool  Weekly  Albion,  Nov.  9, 1872. . . 

New  Year's  Address,  etc.,  1873  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  Jan.  24, 1873  

Jan.  29, 1873  


"  "         Jan.  31, 1873... 

L'Esperance,  Geneve,  May  8, 1873  

The  Scotsman,  November  10,  1873. . . . 

.  41  November  18,  1873  

New  Year's  Address,  etc.,  1874  

The  Architect,  December  27,  1873  . . . 

Rendu's  Glaciers  of  Savoy,"  1874  . . . 
The  Glasgow  Herald,  June  5,  1874. , . . 


ii.260 
ii.263 
ii.286 
ii.287 
ii.289 
ii.296 
ii.283 
ii.226 
i.62 

i.  108?i 
ii.361 
ii.266 
ii  362 

ii.  309 
ii.362 
ii.275 
ii.277 
ii.279 
ii.317 
ii.318 
ii.313 
ii.  335 
ii.228 
ii.231 
ii.  338 
ii,285 
ii.300 

i.  150 

ii.  105 

i.  109 

ii.  303 
ii.304 
ii.836??. 
ii.349 
ii.315 

i.148 
i.149 
i.l5i 
i.153 

i.  lll 
it  307 

ii.  316 

ii.S6°» 
ii.3^7 
ii.267 
ii.268 

ii.269 
ii.335 
ii.246 
ii.247 
ii.328 
i.113 

i.  182 

ii.  310 


880  CHRONOLOGICAL  LIST  OF  THE  LETTERS 


Title  of  Letteb. 


Where  Written. 


An  Oxford  Protest  , 

A  Mistaken  Review  

The  Position  of  Critics  

Commercial  Morality  , 

The  Publication  of  Books  , 

St.  George* s  Museum  , 

The  Definition  of  Wealth  , 

The  Frederick  Walker  Exhibition  

The  Cradle  of  Art  I  

Modern  Warfare  , 

Copies  of  Turner's  Drawings  

Turner's  Drawings,  I  

Turner's  Drawings,  II  

The  Foundations  of  Chivalry  

Modern  Restoration  

Ribbesford  Church  

Mr.  Ruskin  and  Mr.  Lowe  

The  Principles  of  Property  

A  Pagan  Message  

Despair  (extract)  

The  Foundations  of  Chivalry  

Notes  on  a  Word  in  Shakespeare  

The  Bibliography  of  Ruskin  

IV  " 

The  Society  of  the  Rose  

Blindness  and  Sight  

"The  Eagle's  Nest  "  

On  Cooperation.  I  

Politics  in  Youth  

St.  Mark's,  Venice — Circular  relating  to 

St.  Mark's,  Venice — Letters  

On  the  Purchase  of  Pictures  

The  Merchant  of  Venice  (extract)  

Recitations  ,  

Excuse  from  Correspondence  

Copy  of  Turner's  "  Fluelen  "  

The  Study  of  Natural  History  

On  Cooperation.  II  

The  Glasgow  Lord  Rectorship  

u  u  u 

if.  it  u 

u  u  |4 

Dramatic  Reform.  I  

The  Glasgow  Lord  Rectorship  

Dramatic  Reform.  II  


[Oxford  

Brantwood  

Brant  wood  

[Heme  Hill  

Oxford  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Oxford  

[   

[Oxford]  

[Brantwood]  

Peterborough  

Brantwood  

Brantwood,  Coniston, 

Lancashire  

Venice.  

Venice  

Venice  

Venice  

Venice  

Brantwood,  Coniston, 

Lancashire   

Brantwood,  Coniston.  . . . 

[Brantwood]  

Heme  Hill,  London,  S.  E . 

[Oxford  

Malham  

Brantwood   

Edinburgh  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

[Brantwood  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Sheffield  

[Brantwood  

[Brantwood  

TBrantwood  

[Heme  Hill,  S.E.]  

Sheffield  

[Brantwood]  

London   

[  ]  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

[Brantwood]  

[Brantwood]  

Brantwood,  Coniston  

Brantwood  

Rouen  

Amiens  


CONTAINED  IN  BOTH  VOLUMES. 


381 


When  Written. 


October  29,  1874]  ... 
January  10  [1875]  . . . 
January  18  [1875]  . . 

February,  1875]  

June  6,  1875  

[September,  1875]  . . . 
9th  November,  1875  . 

January,  1876]  

18th  February,  1876. 

June,  1876  

April  23  [1876]  

July  3  [1876]  

July  16  [1876]  


February  8th,  1877. 


February  10th  [1877]. 
11th  February  [1877]. 
12th  February,  '77]... 

15th  April,  1877  

July  24,  1877  


August  24  [1877].  . 
10th  October,  1877. 
19th  December,  187 
February,  1878] . . . 
July  3d,  1878  


[September,  1878]  

29th  September,  1878. 
September  30,  1878... 

October  23,  1878  

Early  in  1879]  


18th  July,  1879  

August  17th,  1879... 

[August,  1879]  

October  19th,  1879... 

Winter  1879]  

Winter  1879]  

January,  1880]   

6th  February,  1880.. 
16th  February,  1880. 

March,  1880]  

20th  March,  1880  

Undated  

April  12th,  1880  

10th  June,  1880   

13th  June,  1880   

24th  June,  1880  

[July,  1880]  

July  30th,  1880  


Where  and  when  first  Published. 


28th  September,  1880. 
October  12th,  1880. . . . 


The  Globe,  Oct.  29,  1874  

The  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  January  1 1,  1875. . 

*4  kk         January  19,  1875.. 

Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown. . 

The  World,  June  9,  1875   

Sheffield  Daily  Telegraph,  Sept.  6,  1875  . . 

The  Monetary  Gazette,  Nov.  13, 1875  

The  Times,  January  20,  1876  

Date  and  place  of  publication  unknown.. 

Fraser's  Magazine,  July,  1876  

The  Times,  April  25,  1876  

The  Daily  Telegraph,  July  5,  1876   

July  19,  1876  


Vol  anji 

Page. 


"  The  Science  of  Life  "  (second  edition), 

1878  

44  u  (first  edition),  1877 

1877 
1877 

The  Liverpool  Daily  Post,  June  9, 1877  . . 
The  Kidderminster  Times,  July  28, 1877 

The  Standard,  August  28,  1877   

The  Socialist,  November,  1877  

New  Year's  Address,  etc.,  1878  

The  Times,  February  12,  1878  

"The  Science  of  Life"  (second  edition), 

1878  

New  Shakspere  Soc.  Trans.  1878-9  


ii364 

ii.343 
ii.345 
ii.271 
ii.34i 
ii.312 
ii.271 
i.116 
ii.312 
ii.234 
i.108 
i.102 
i.107 


ii.329 
ii.336 
ii.332 
ii.333 
i.154 

i.  155 

ii.  365 
ii.272 
ii.329 
ii.  310k 


4 1  Bibliography  of  Dickens  "  (advt. ),  1880. 
Report  of  Ruskin  Societv,  Manchester, 

1880  ;  

The  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,  Sept.,  1879  

"  41  October,  1879... 

The  Christian  Life,  December  20,  1879. . . 

The  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,  Nov.  1879   

See  the  Circular  

Birmingham  Daily  Mail,  Nov.  27, 1879  . . 
Leicester  Chronicle,  January  31, 1880  .... 

The  Theatre,  March,  1880  

Circular  printed  by  Mr.  R.  T.  Webling. . . 
List  of  Mr.  Ruskin's  Writings,  Mar.,  1880 
Lithograph  copy  issued  by  Mr.  Ward,  1880 

Letter  to  Adam  White  [unknown]  

The  Daily  News,  June  19, 1880  

The  Glasgow  Herald,  Oct.  7,  1880  

Oct.  7, 1880  

44  44         Oct.  7,  1880  

Oct.  12,  1880  

Journal  of  Dramatic  Reform,  November, 

1880  

The  Glasgow  Herald,  Oct.  7, 1880  

Journal  of  Dramatic  Reform,  November, 

1880  


ii.333 
ii.  353 
ii.354 
ii.365 
ii.366 


ii.366 
ii.325 
ii.326 
ii.273 
ii.326 
i.156 
i.166 
i.65 
ii.356 
ii.357 
ii.  363ft 
i.  108ft 

i.  199 

ii.  274 
ii.370 
ii.371 
ii.371 
ii.372 

ii.368 
ii.371 

ii.  369 


INDEX. 


Abana  and  Pharpar,  ii.  216. 

Academy-studies,  i.  119  ;  usual  tendencies  of  academies,  i.  79  ;  the  Liver- 
pool, ib.  ;  Royal  Academy,  pictures  seen  to  disadvantage  in  the,  i. 
35  ;  Exhibitions  of  the,  i.  66,  74,  172  (note),  119  (note)  j  the  Scotch 
Academy,  i.  81  (note),  172  (note). 

Acland,  Sir  Thomas,  i.  39. 

 (Dr  ),  Henry,  i.  39  ;  i.  123  (note) ;  i.  128  ;  i.  167.    (See  also 

Oxford  Museum.) 
Advertisement  of  books,  ii.  342. 
iEschylus,  his  work,  i.  37  (note). 
Agassiz  and  Forbes,  i.  172  ;  i.  183. 

Age,  the  present,  one  of  u  steam  and  iron,  luxury  and  selfishness,"  i.  33  ; 

one  in  which  poetry  is  disregarded,  i.  32  ;  fever  of  change  in,  ii. 

294 ;  shallow  learning,  the  curse  of,  ii.  310. 
Agreements,  compulsory,  ii.  254. 
Ailsa  Rock,  i.  143. 
Alisma  Plantago,  i.  68. 
Allen,  Mr.  George,  i.  160  ;  i.  166  (note). 
Alms  and  Wages,  ii.  257  ;  ii.  262. 
Almsgiving,  ii.  294.    (See  Charity.) 

Alps,  conformation  of  the,  i.  169  seqq.  ;  origin  of  form  of,  i.  170  ;  charts 
of  sections  of  chain  wanted,  i.  171  ;  extent  of  chain,  i.  178  ;  Mr. 
Raskin's  lecture  on  the  Savoy  Alps,  i.  171,  and  note. 

Alsace  and  Lorraine,  ii.  234. 

Alsen,  ii.  225,  and  note. 

Amazon,  Kiss',  ii.  220  (note),  218. 

Ambition,  tone  of  modern,  ii.  337,  339. 

America,  England  no  need  to  learn  from,  ii.  275  ;  has  no  castles,  i.  147 
(note) ;  reference  to  Mr.  Ruskin  by  Mr.  Holyoake  in,  ii.  274 ;  serf 
economy  in,  ii.  227. 

American  war,  loss  of  property  in,  ii.  241.    (See  also  Lincoln,  Pres.) 

Amiens,  Cathedral  of,  i.  151,  ii.  272  ;  the  theatres  at,  ii.  269. 

Andrew,  St.,  ii.  214. 

Angelico,  i.  53,  i.  118  ;  and  Giotto,  their  theology  of  death,  i.  118  ; 
holiness  of,  ii.  229  (note)  ;  Lis  "highest  inspiration"  destroyed  at 
Florence,  i.  48,  and  note ;  his  •*  Last  Judgment,"  i.  55,  and  note  ; 
formerly  no  picture  by  in  National  Gallery,  i.  54,  and  note. 

Angrogna,  the  valley  of,  ii.  217. 

Animals,  kindness  and  cruelty  to,  ii.  314  seqq.  ;  315  (note);  ii.  328 ? 

portraiture  of  in  architecture,  i.  139  ;  of  Scripture,  ii.  350. 
Anjou,  ii.  234. 

Annual  Register  (1859),  quoted,  ii.  216  (note). 


384 


INDEX. 


Antwerp,  "Rubens"  at,  i.  39. 
fc<  A  Pagan  Message,"  ii.  329. 
Apolline  Myths,  the,  ii.  349. 
Apollo  Belvedere,  the,  i.  21. 
Appendix,  List  of  Letters  in  the,  ii.  358. 

Arabian  Nights,  the,  quoted,  "  the  seals  of  Solomon  "  (Story  of  the  Fish 
erman,  Chapter  ii.),  i.  133  ;  Story  of  the  Ugly  Bridegroom,  ii.  294. 
Arbia,  the,  ii.  221  (note). 
Arbitration  and  Strikes  (letter),  ii.  249. 
Archer  knight,  the,  i.  155. 

Architect,  The  (Dec.  27,  1873),  Letter  on  E.  George's  Etchings,  i.  113. 

Architecture,  List  of  Letters  on,  i.  123  ;  its  beauty  dependent  on  its  use, 
i.  145  ;  Byzantine  builders,  i.  164  ;  cultivation  of  feeling  for  draw- 
ing in,  i.  114  ;  English  copying  of  old,  i.  138 ;  expressional  charac- 
ter of,  i.  154  ;  Frankenstein  monsters,  i.  153  ;  Gothic  and  Classic, 
i.  102  (note)  ;  Gothic,  and  the  Oxford  Museum  (letters),  i.  122  segq., 
128  seqq.  ;  Greek  work  freehand,  i.  164  ;  jobbery  in  modern,  i.  155  ; 
pseudo-Venetian,  i.  154;  sculpture,  use  of,  in.  i.  137  seqq.  ;  St. 
Mark's,  Venice,  place  of,  in,  i.  158 ;  Ruskin's  influence  on  modern, 
i.  151-154  ;  unity  in,  i.  138.    (See  also  Gothic  Architecture.) 

Areola,  ii.  239. 

Argument,  the  best  kind  of,  i.  47. 
Aristotle,  his  work,  i.  37  ^note). 
Arno,  the,  ii.  304-306. 

Art,  the  Alphabet  of  (Dr  Acland  on),  i.  127  ;  color  and  design,  i.  45  ; 
connection  of  with  other  studies,  i.  44,  45  ;  conventionalism  in,  i. 
139 ;  dancing,  ii.  334  ;  dicta  in,  dangerous  i.  39,  42  ;  drawing — 
practical  value  of,  i.  42;  an  essential  part  of  education,  i.  40;  its 
uses,  ib.  ;  a  more  universal  faculty  than  music,  ib.  ;— education  in 
art,  i.  44  ;  enjoyment  of  different  kinds  of  art  by  different  people, 
i.  28,  i.  40;  generalization  in  art,  i.  81  ;  Greek  art,  study  of,  ii.  334  ; 
growth  of  art  in  England  and  Italy,  i.  23  ;  happiness  and  knowledge 
of  art,  i.  40  ;  highest  art  the  most  truthful,  i.  138  ;  history  of,  i.  41 ; 
how  far  to  be  studied,  i.  23  ;  "  ideas"  in,  ii.  213  ;  inclusive  of  what, 
i.  44 ;  should  be  public,  permanent,  and  expressive,  i.  124,  64  ; 
manufacture  and,  i.  43,  ii.  324;  music,  ii.  334;  ornamental  art,  i. 
139;  special  gift  for,  how  to  detect,  i.  43  ;  studies,  how  to  direct,  i. 
40  ;  teaching  by  correspondence,  i.  46  ;  unity  of  purpose  in,  i.  138; 
use  of  before  printing,  i.  122  (note). 

Art  Criticism,  List  of  Letters  on,  i.  15  ;  letter,  4 'Art  Criticism,"  i.  24  seqq.', 
art  criticism,  impossible  to  very  young  men,  and  why,  i.  40  ;  neces- 
sarily partial,  and  why,  i.  40  ;  the  common  dicta  of ,  their  dangerous 
use,  i.  38,  40  ;  how  to  develop  the  power  of,  ib.  ;  the  foundations 
of,  i.  40 ;  the  kinds  of,  right  and  wrong,  ib. 

Art-critics,  i.  27;  two  kinds  of,  i.  24  ;  qualifications  of,  i.  25  (note). 

Art  Education,  List  of  Letters  on,  i.  15  ;  danger  of  too  good  models,  i.  42. 
(See  Art.) 

Art  Examinations,  range  and  object  of,  i.  39  ;  examples  of  questions  to 
be  set  in,  i.  40. 

Artist  (see  Art),  two  courses  open  to  the,  i.  33  ;  extent  of  his  work,  i. 

40  ;  ignorance  of  landscape  in  portrait  painters,  i.  29,  and  note  ; 

letters  on  artists  and  pictures,  i.  Ill  seqq. 
Artist  and  Amateurs  Magazine.  Letter  on  Art  Criticism  in  (January 

1844),  i.  24  seqq.;  allusion  to  article  in,  i.  32,  and  note  ;  Letter  to 


INDEX. 


385 


Editor  on  "  Reflections  in  Water  "  (February  1844),  i.  186  seqq. ;  re- 
view of  "  Modern  Painters,"  in,  i.  196  (note). 

Art  Journal,  "  Cestus  of  Aglaia"  referred  to,  ii.  292,  and  note  ;  Letters 
on  "A  Museum  or  Picture  Gallery    meutioned,  i.  12,  and  note. 

Arts,  Society  of.    (See  Societies.) 

Art  Union,  on  < '  Modern  Painters,"  i.  186  ;  writers  for  the,  i.  29. 
Arve,  foul  water  of  the,  i.  191. 
Arveron,  the,  i.  175. 

Ashmolean  Society,  Proceedings  of  (1841),  Letter  on  "A  Landslip  near 

Giagnano  "  in,  i.  197. 
Asiatic,  The  (May  23,  1871),  Letter,  "The  Queen  of  the  Air,"  ii.  349. 
Astnean  anecdote,  an,  ii.  357. 

Athena,  i.  159,  162  (note)  ;  the  Queen  of  the  Air,  ii.  349. 

Athenaeum,  The  (February  14,  1857),  Letter  on  the  Gentian,  i.  198  ;  the 

Glasgow  Athenaeum,  ii.  310  (note). 
Athens,  ii.  356. 

Atmospheric  pressure,  i.  181  seqq. 
Atreus'  treasury  and  St.  Mark's,  i.  159. 
Audiences,  modern,  ii.  310  ;  ii.  365. 
Aui'ifrigium,  ii.  355. 

Authorship,  early  in  life,  deprecated,  ii.  342  ;  needs  training,  ib. 

Austerlitz,  battle  of,  ii.  236. 

Austin's  definition  of  Justice,  ii.  258  (note). 

Australia,  gold  in,  ii.  258  (note). 

Austria,  characteristics  of  the  nation,  ii.  211  seqq.;  "barbarism,"  and 
magnanimity  of,  ii.  212  ;  and  France,  loss  in  war  between,  ii.  238  ; 
work  of,  in  Italy,  ii.  212  seqq. 

Autographic  Mirror,  The  (Dec.  23,  1865),  letter  to  W.  H.  Harrison  in, 
ii.  368. 

Anvergne,  ii.  234. 

Aytoun's  "  Ballads  of  Scotland  "  referred  to,  i.  83  (note). 

Babies,  ii.  359  ;  "  Baby  May,"  ib.  (note). 
Backhuysen,  i.  26. 

Bacon,  his  mission  and  work,  i.  37  (note). 
Ballads,  Scotch,  i.  83  (note)  ;  "  Burd  Helen/'  ib. 
Bandinelli,  i.  53. 
Bank  directors,  ii.  317. 
Bargaining  and  begging,  ii.  257. 
Barometer,  use  of  the,  i.  181. 

Barry,  Sir  C.,  ii.  353  (note);  James,  R.  A.,  anecdote  of,  i.  29,  30,  and 
note. 

Bartholomew  Fair,  i.  65. 

Bartolomeo,  Fra,  no  picture  by  in  the  National  Gallery,  i.  55,  and 

note. 

Bass,  Mr.  M.  T.,  ii.  225  (note). 
Bass  rock,  The,  i.  142. 

Beaconsfield,  Lord,  and  Mr.  Gladstone,  ii.  372. 

Beaumont,  Sir  G.,  i.  21  (note). 

Bee.  the  Queen,  ii.  296. 

Beelzebub,  ii.  372. 

Begging  and  bargaining,  ii.  257. 

Bellini,  i.  53,  57,  162  (note) ;  his  "Doge  Leonardo  Loredano,"  55,  56, 
and  note  ;  character  of  as  an  artist,  ib. 
Vol.  II.—  25 


386 


INDEX. 


Bellinzona,  the  people  of,  ii.  306  ;  Mr.  Ruskin  at,  ib. 
Bennett,  W.  C,  Letter  to,  ii.  359  ;  his  Poems,  ib.,  and  note. 
Bentham's  definition  of  justice,  ii.  258. 
Ben  Wyvis,  i.  143. 

Berlin,  Mr.  Buskin's  letters  from,  ii.  211,  214  ;  the  sights  of,  ii.  217 

and  217  (note)  ;  Sundays  at,  ii.  216. 
Bible,  animals  of  the,  ii.  250  seqq. ;  possible  errors  in  the,  ii.  291,  and 

note  ;  what  to  read  in  the,  ii.  328  ;  quoted  or  referred  to, — 


44  What  are  these  wounds  in  thy  hands  "  (Zechariah  xiii.  6),  i.  67  (note). 
"  I  meditate  on  all  thy  works  11  (Psalm  cxliii.  5),  i.  68  (note). 
"Behold,  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock"  (Revelation  iii.  20),  i.  76. 
The  wild  grass  "  whereof  the  mower  filleth  not  his  hand  "  (Psalm  cxxix.  7),  i.  76. 
(See  both  Bible  and  Prayer-book  versions.) 
44 The  feet  of  those  who  publish  peace"  (Isaiah  lii.  7),  i.  130. 
44  We  also  are  his  offspring  "  (Acts  xvii.  28),  i.  159. 
44  Abana  and  Pharpar"  (2  Kings  v.  12),  ii.  216. 

44  Woe  unto  thee,  O  land,  when  thy  king  is  a  child  "  (Ecclesiastes  x.  16),  ii.  227. 
44 Raising  the  poor  "  (1  Sam.  ii.  8  ;  Psalm  cxiii.  7),  ii.  283. 

The  commandment  is  holy,  just,  and  good  "  (Romans  vii.  12),  ii.  256. 
4<  Who  sweareth  to  his  own  hurt,  and  changeth  not  "  (Psalm  xv.  4),  ii.  258. 
44  Eye  for  eye,  and  tooth  for  tooth  "  (Exodus  xxi.  24  and  reff.),  ii.  265. 
44  He  that  delicately  bringeth  up  his  servant,"  etc.  (Proverbs  xxix.  21),  ii.  286. 
44  Not  now  as  a  servant,  but  above  a  servant,  a  brother  beloved  "  (Philemon  16), 
ii.  291. 

44  The  waters  of  comfort"  (Psalm  xxiii.  2,  Prayer-book  version),  ii.  304. 
44  Eyes  have  they  and  see  not  "  (Jeremiah  v.  21),  ii.  326. 
44  A  rod  for  the  fool's  back"  (Proverbs  xxvi.  3),  ii.  327. 

44  A  rod  is  for  the  back  of  him  that  is  void  of  understanding  11  (Proverbs  x.  13),  ib. 
"Thou  shalt  not  commit  adultery  "  (Exodus  xx.  14),  ii.  333. 
44  Male  and  female  created  he  them  "  (Genesis  i.  27),  ii.  334s 
"  I  will  make  a  helpmeet  for  him  "  (Genesis  ii.  18),  ib. 

44  All  her  household  are  clothed  with  scarlet  "  (Proverbs  xxxi.  21,  22),  ii.  337. 
44  Who  clothed  you  in  scarlet %1  (2  Samuel  i.  24),  ib. 

44  The  king's  daughter  is  all  glorious  within  "  (Psalm  xiv.  13,  14),  ii.  337. 

44  She  riseth  while  it  is  yet  night.    .    .    .    Strength  and  honor  are  her  clothing" 

(Proverbs  xxxi.  15,  xxii.  5),  ii.  339. 
44  And  the  city  was  broken  up  "  (2  Kings  xxv.  4),  ii.  354. 


Bigg,  Mr.  W.  M.,  sale  of  pictures,  i.  105  (note). 
'Bills,  for  fresh  railways,  ii.  283;  the  reform  bill  (1867),  ii.  319. 
Birds,  preservation  of  wild,  ii.  314  (note) ;  treatment  of,  ii.  328. 
Birmingham  Daily  Mail,  Nov.  27,  1879  (Mr.  Ruskin  on  St.  Mark's, 

Venice),  i.  167. 
Bishops,  ii.  317. 

Black,  W.,  u  The  Daughter  of  Heth,,,  i.  120  (note). 

Black-letter,  not  illegible,  ii.  (note),  352-353. 

Blackfriars  Bible  Class.    See  "New  Years  Address." 

Blackstone's  summary  of  law,  ii.  264,  and  note. 

Blackwood's  Magazine,  the  art  critic  of,  i.  27. 

"  Blind  Fiddler,"  the,  i.  22. 

Bluecoat  School,  i.  65. 

Boat-race,  training  for,  ii.  331. 

Boileau  quoted,  i.  28. 

"  Bold"  work  in  drawing  and  music,  i.  98. 

Bonheur,  Mdlle.  Rosa,  escape  of  from  Paris,  ii.  229  (note). 

Books,  publication  of,  ii.  341  ;  number  of  in  the  world,  ii.  342. 

Booth,  J.  Wilkes  (assassin  of  President  Lincoln),  ii.  256  (note). 

Botany,  an  examination  paper  in,  i.  46.   (See  also  Flowers.) 


INDEX. 


387 


Bouguer,  Pierre,  i.  192  (note). 
Bourges  Cathedral,  i.  151. 

Bragge,  Mr.  W.  and  the  Sheffield  Museum,  ii.  313  (note). 
4 1  Break,"  meaning  of,  ii.  354. 
Breche,  the,  ii.  234. 
Brenta,  the,  ii.  216,  305. 
Brewster,  Sir  D.,  i.  192. 

Bridge  water  House,  il  Turner  "  at,  i.  26,  and  note. 
Bright,  Mr.  John,  M.P.,  ii.  370  seqq. 
Brighton,  railway  competition  at,  ii.  279  (note). 

British  Museum,  Letter  on,  i.  63  seqq. ;  i.  105,  106  ;  catalogues  of  the, 
i.  63  ;  Henry  VI. 's  psalter  at,  i.  64,  and  note  ;  preservation  of 
drawings  at,  i.  87  ;  what  it  is  and  is  not,  i.  105,  106. 

Brodie,  Prof. ,  at  Oxford,  i.  132,  and  note. 

Bromley,  villas  at,  i.  153. 

Brooke,  Stopford  A.,  ii.  338,  and  note. 

Browne,  Edward,  Dr.,  ii.  309,  and  note  ;  Thomas,  Sir,  ib. 

Browning,  Robert,  ii.  359  (note). 

Bubastis,  cats  sacred  to  (Herodotus,  ii.  263),  ii.  225. 

Buchan's  Scotch  Ballads  referred  to,  i.  83  (note). 

Buckland,  Dr.  William,  i.  178  (note). 

Builder,  The  (Dec.  9, 1854),  Letter,  "  Limner"  and  Illumination,  ii.  352. 
Buildings,  modern,  ii.  333,  i.  153  ;  repair  of,  ii.  313. 
Bunch,  Sydney  Smith's,  ii.  229,  and  note. 
Bunney,  Mr.,  painting  of  St.  Mark's,  i.  166  (note). 
Buonaroti,  i.  53. 

"  Burd  Helen,"  i.  83,  and  note  ;  meaning  of  "  Burd,"  ib. 

Burgundy,  ii.  234. 

Burial  and  immortality,  i.  138. 

Burlington  House,  i.  118. 

Burne  Jones,  Mr. ,  and  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  167. 
Burns,  quoted,  i.  34,  and  note. 
Butler,  Bishop,  ii.  257. 

Byron  quoted,  i.  34,  and  note,  i.  35  ;  Turner's  illustrations  of,  i.  105 
(note). 


Cabmen's  fares,  ii.  253. 
Calcutta,  ii.  237. 

California,  gold  in,  ii.  240  (note). 
Callcott,  Sir.  A.,  i.  28,  36,  37. 

Campanile,  St.  Mark's  Venice,  i.  164  ;  at  Verona,  i.  166. 

Campbell  quoted,  i.  35  (note),  36. 

Canterbury  Cathedral,  i.  158. 

Cape  of  Good  Hope  and  Venetian  History,  ii.  331. 

Capital,  employment  of,  ii.  280  seqq.  ;  sunk  in  works  of  art,  ii.  281. 

Capital  Punishment,  ii.  320. 

Cappel,  ii.  210  (note),  211. 

Capri,  grotto  of,  i.  195  (note). 

"  Captain,"  loss  of  the,  ii.  233,  and  note. 

Caracci  and  Titian,  i.  61. 

Careers,  modern,  ii.  330,  331,  332. 

Car lyle,  Thomas,  quoted,  his  4  4  Frederick  the  Great,"  ii.  233;  on  the 
Jamaica  Insurrection  and  the  Eyre  Defence  Fund,  ii.  226  (note), 


388 


INDEX, 


228  (note)  ;  on  servants,  ii.  292  ;  letter  to  W.  C.  Bennett,  ji.  360 
(note). 

Carpenter,  W.  H.,  i.  87,  and  note,  95. 
Carriage  of  heavy  goods,  ii.  322-824. 

Gary's  Dante  quoted,  ii.  221  (note) ;  criticised,  351,  and  note. 

Casentino,  ii.  306. 

Castel-a-mare,  landslip  near,  i.  199. 

Castles— building  of,  i.  145,  146  ;  definition  of,  i.  145;  not  to  be  imi- 
tated, i.  146  ;  proper,  no  longer  needed  or  possible,  i.  145  ;  none  in 
America,  i.  148  (note);  Warwick  Castle,  i.  148  seqq. 

Casts  of  St.  Marks,  i.  160,  166. 

Catechism,  won't  make  good  servants,  ii.  286  ;  or  educate  children,  ii. 

309. 

Cathartics,  use  of  by  ancients,  ii.  268. 
Catholics,  Roman,  and  Protestants,  ii.  210  seqq. 
Cellini,  i.  53. 

"  Cestus  of  Aglaia."    (See  Buskin.) 

Chamouni,  i.  170  ;  the  rocks  of,  i.  175 ;  land  destroyed  at,  ii.  304. 

Champagne,  demand  for,  ii.  247. 

Chantrey,  Sir  F.,  i.  36,  37. 

Chapman,  Mr.  (of  Glasgow  Athenaeum),  ii.  310. 

Character  formed  by  employment,  ii.  318. 

Charity,  ii.  317  ;  invalid  charities,  ii.  325;  "an  object  of  V  (letter),  iie 

362. 

Charity-children  singing  at  St.  Paul's,  ii.  335, 
Charles  the  Bold,  ii.  234. 

Charlottenburg,  tomb  of  Queen  Louise  at,  i.  27,  and  note. 

Chartres  Cathedral,  i.  151. 

"  Chasing."  meaning  of  the  word,  ii.  354  (note). 

Chiaroscuro,  i.  18;  of  Leech,  i.  112. 

kt  Child  Waters,"  ballad  of,  i.  83  (note). 

China,  war  in,  ii.  233. 

Chivalry,  the  foundation  of,  ii.  329  seqq. 

44 Chorus,"  ii.  334. 

Christ,  offices  of,  to  the  soul,  i.  76,  77. 

Christ  Church,  Dean  of,  and  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  167. 

Christian  Life,  The  (Dec.  20,  1879),  Letter  on  Co-operation  in,  ii.  274. 

Christie  and  Manson,  sales  by,  i.  83  (note),  ii.  74,  ii.  359  (note). 

Chrysanthema,  ii.  359. 

Cimabue,  anecdote  relating  to,  i.  24,  and  note  ;  his  picture  of  the  Vir- 
gin, ih*  ;  teaches  Giotto,  i.  40  (note). 
Cinderella,  ii.  293. 

Cirencester,  Agricultural  College  at,  ii.  304. 
Citadel,  definition  of  a,  i.  145. 
Civet,  ii.  290. 

Claude,  i  38  ;  challenged  by  Turner,  i.  57,  and  note;  his  "  Seaport," 
and  "  Mill,"  ib.  ;  pictures  of,  restored,  i.  57  (note).    (See  National 

Gallery.) 

Cleopatra  dissolving  the  pearl,  i.  60. 

Coal,  how  to  economize  English,  ii.  321. 

Cocker,  Edward,  arithmetician  (b.  1631,  d.  1677),  ii.  244. 

Coincidence,  a  strange,  ii.  297  (note),  297. 

Colen,  ii.  308. 

Colenso,  Bishop,  ii.  291  (note)  ;  his  book  on  the  Pentateuch,  ib. 


INDEX, 


389 


Collins,  C.  A.,  i.  66  seqq.  ;  ib.  (note);  his  ''Convent  Thoughts,"  ib.  ; 

portrait  of  Wm.  Bennett,  ib.  ;  his  writings,  ib. 
Cologne,  the  "  Rubens "  at,  i.  49. 
Colonization,  ii.  283,  ii.  314. 

Color,  and  design,  i.  43  ;  eye  for,  rare,  i.  29  ;  the  laws  of,  how  far  de- 
fined, i.  134  ;  "  scarlet  "  the  purest,  ii.  371 ;  of  water,  i.  192. 
Combe,  Mr.,  purchase  of  the  "Light  of  the  World''  by,  i.  74  (note). 
Commandments,  the  Ten,  ii.  328. 

Commercial  morality  (letter),  ii.  271  ;  putrefaction,  ii.  274. 
Commons,  House  of,  tone  of  debate  on  Denmark,  ii.  224. 
Conscience,  the  light  of,  i.  75. 
Conscription,  forms  of  true,  ii.  323. 
Consistency,  the  nature  of  true,  i.  40  (note). 

Contemporary  Review,  Mr.  Goldwin  Smith's  article  in  (Dec,  1872),  ii.  267 
(note)  ;  Mr.  Ruskin's  "  Home  and  its  Economies"  in  (May,  1873),  ii. 
330  (note)  ;  "Letters  on  the  Lords  Prayer"  in  (Dec,  1879),  ii.  328. 

Conventionalism  in  Art,  i.  132. 

Conway  Castle,  i.  148. 

Co-operation,  letters  to  Mr.  G.  J.  Holyoake  on,  ii.  274,  275. 
Copenhagen,  ii.  237. 

Copies,  of  pictures  in  England  and  Italy,  i.  108  ;  of  Turner,  i.  108. 
Cornhill  Magazine,  Mr.  Ruskin's  article  on  Sir  Joshua  and  Holbein 

(March,  1860),  ii.  218  (note). 
Cornwall,  clear  water  on  coast  of,  i.  192. 

Correggio,  i.  57,  81,  99  ;  copies  of,  i.  109  ;  in  the  Louvre,  i.  60. 
Correspondence,  Mr.  Ruskin's  excuses  from,  ii.  362. 
Cotopaxi,  i.  179. 
Cotton,  substitutes  for,  ii.  340. 

Coventry,  riband  makers  of,  ii  276,  322  ;  Co-operative  Record,  letter  in, 

on  co-operation,  ii.  274  (note). 
Cramlington,  strike  at,  ii.  299,  and  note. 
Crawford  Place,  ii.  298,  and  note. 
Creation,  man  its  greatest  marvel,  i.  99. 
Cricklade,  i.  63  (note). 

Criticism  (See  Art-criticism),  List  of  Letters  on  literary,  ii.  342 ;  literary, 
ii.  343,  344 ;  position  of  critics,  ii.  344  ;  the  Goddess  of  Criticism, 
ib.  (note) ;  rarity  of  good,  i.  17. 

Crime,  how  to  prevent,  ii.  320  ;  and  drunkenness,  ii.  316  ;  and  madness, 
ii.  316  (note). 

Criminal  classes,  letter  and  pamphlet  on  the,  ii.  317,  318  seqq.  ;  how  W 

treat  criminals,  ii.  316. 
Cronstadt,  ii.  238. 

Crossing-sweepers  in  Utopia  and  London,  ii.  307. 
Crown,  the,  jewels,  i.  63. 
Cruelty  to  animals,  ii.  314  (note). 
"Cruise  upon  Wheels,"  A,  i.  68  (note). 
Curtius,  ii.  211  (note). 
Custozza,  ii.  211  (note). 

Cuyp,  pictures  of  in  National  Gallery,  i.  44,  and  note. 

Daily  News,  the  letter  of  Mr.  Ruskin  "  on  Co-operation"  in  (June  19, 
1880),  ii.  274;  Speech  of  Mr.  Ruskin  at  the  Society  for  the  Preven* 
tion  of  Cruelty  to  Animals  (July  11,  1877),  ii.  314  (note). 


390 


INDEX. 


Daily  Telegraph,  The,  Letters  and  Articles  in  (in  order  of  date)  : — 

(Oct.  28,  1864)  "  The  Law  of  Supply  and  Demand,1'  ii.  241. 
(Oct.  31,  1864)         44  44  ii.  242. 

(Nov.  3,  1864)  44  "  "  ii.  242. 

(Dec.  20,  1865)  44  The  Jamaica  Insurrection,"  ii.  226. 

Carlylo's  Letter  to  the  Eyre  Defence  Fund,  ii.  228  (note). 
(Sept.  5,  18H5)  44  Domestic  Servants  " — Mastership,  ii.  286. 
(Sept.  7,  1865)  4i  44  Experience,  ii.  287. 

(Sept.  18,  1865)         44  44  Sonship  and  Slavery,  ii.  289. 

Articles,  etc.,  on  servants,  ii.  287  (note),  292  (note),  295  (noteY 
(Oct.  17,  1865)  "Modern  Houses,"  ii.  296. 

Other  correspondence  on  houses,  ib.  (note). 
(Dec.  8,  1865)  44  Our  Railway  System,11  ii.  283. 

Article  on  railways,  ib.  (note). 
(Jan.  22,  1868)  44  An  object  of  charity,'1  ii.  362. 

Article  on  Matilda  Griggs,  ib.  (note). 
(July  16,  1868)  Strikes,  Mr.  Ruskin's  Proposition  as  to,  ii.  265  (note). 
(July  31,  1868)  44  Is  England  big  enough  ? 11  ii.  275. 

Article,  44  Marriage  or  Celibacy,11  ib.  (note). 
(Aug.  6,  1868)  44  The  Ownership  of  Railways,11  ii.  277. 

Articles  on  railways,  ib.  (note)  279. 
(Aug.  10,  1868)  44  Railway  Economy,11  ii.  279. 

44  Fair  Play's  "  letter  on  railways,  279,  280,  280  (note). 
44  East  End  Emigrants,"  article,  ii.  283  (note). 
(Dec.  26,  1868)  44  Employment  for  the  Destitute  Poor  and  Criminal  Classes,,'  ii. 
317. 

44  Employment."  etc.  (pamphlet),  ii.  318  (note),  320  (note). 
(Jan.  15,  1870)  44  The  Morality  of  Field  Sports,"  ii.  313. 

Articles  on  sport,  ib.  (note). 
(Oct.  7.  1870)  44  The  Franco- Prussian  War,"  ii.  228. 
(Oct.  8.  1870)         44         44  44     ii.  231. 

(Nov.  30,  1870)  44  Railway  Safety,1'  ii.  285. 

Article  on  railway  accidents,  ib.  (note). 
(Jan.  12,  1871)  44  A  King's  first  duty,"  ii.  300. 

Article  on  the  Roman  Inundations,  ib.  (note)  ;  ii.  243. 
(Jan,  19,  1871)  44  Notre  Dame  de  Paris,"  i.  148. 
(Feb.  4,  1871)  44  The  Waters  of  Comfort,"  ii.  303. 
(Feb.  7,  1871)  44  The  Streams  of  Italy,"  ii.  304. 

(Feb.  21,  1871)  44  Woman's  sphere,"  extract  from  a  letter  of  Mr.  Ruskin  to  Misi 

Faithfull,  ii.  335  (note). 
(Dec.  8,  1871)  Article  on  Taverns,  i.  148  (note). 
(Dec.  11,  1871)  44  Drunkenness  and  Crime,"  ii.  315. 
(Dec.  22,  1871)  44  Castles  and  Kennels,"  i.  148. 
(Dec.  25,  1871)  44  Verona  v.  Warwick,"  i.  149. 

Articles  on  Warwick  Castle,  i.  148, 149  (note). 
(July  5.  1876)  44  Turner's  Drawings,"  i.  102  scqq. 
(July  19,  1876)        44  44        i.  105. 

Dancing,  art  of,  ii.  334. 

Danger  and  difficulty,  how  far  factors  in  regulating  wages,  ii.  253. 

Dante  quoted,  ii.  221,  and  note.    (See  also  Cary.) 

Darkness,  effect  of,  on  drawings,  i.  92. 

David,  restoration  of  Raphaels  by,  i.  48. 

Daybreak,  ii.  354. 

Deane,  Sir  Thomas,  i.  122  (note). 

Dearie,  Mr.  T.,  his  "Evening  on  the  Mai-clmo,"  i.  77,  and  note. 
Decoration,  delicate  and  rough,  i.  135,  136. 

Demand,  law  of  supply  and,  letters  on,  i.  45-50;  foolish,  ii.  292 ;  the 

largest  that  of  hell,  ib. 
Denmark,  the  position  of,  in  1863,  ii.  223  seqq. 

Denudation,  i.  177,  178  ;  its  place  in  physical  mythology,  i.  179,  180. 

Derby,  the,  1859,  ii.  216  (note). 

"  Derby  Day,"  Frith's,  i.  65.    (See  also  i.  11,  note.) 


INDEX. 


391 


De  Saussure,  i.  185,  186  (note). 
Deucalion,  the  myth  of,  i.  179. 

"  Deucalion  'V referred  to.    (See  Ruskin,  books  quoted.) 

Diagrams,  illustrating  rainbow  reflections,  i.  196,  197. 

Dickens,  letter  of,  to  Mr.  Bennett,  ii.  360  (note)  ;  bibliography  of,  let- 
ters in  the,  ii.  366  ;  death  of,  ii.  311  (note).  "  Pickwick  "  referred 
to,  ii.  290. 

Dinner  tables,  modern,  ii.  260. 

M  Disciple  of  Art  and  Votary  of  Science,"  article  in  Liverpool  Albion,  ii. 

263  (note). 
Discovery,  the  merits  of,  i.  183  seqq. 
Distances,  focal,  i.  19. 

Dividends,  railway— a  tax  on  the  traveller,  ii.  277. 

Dogs,  Protestant  and  Catholic,  ii.  217  ;  "  dog  or  bee  "  letter,  ii.  313. 

Domestic  servants.    (See  Servants.)    Meaning  of  word  u  domestic,"  ii. 

295  (note). 
"  Dones"  and  "undones,"  ii.  328. 
Doric  modes,  ii.  334. 
Drama,  reform  of  the,  ii.  368,  369. 
Drawing.    (See  Art.) 
Drawing-master,  the  first  work  of  a,  i.  42. 

Drawings,  chance  beauty  of  good,  i.  Ill  ;  subtlety  possible  in,  i.  96,  97 
seqq. ;  effect  of  light,  etc. ,  on,  i.  86,  87,  105,  106,  107 ;  how  to 
mount,  i.  86  ;  how  to  frame,  i.  86. 

Dreams,  Homeric  myth  as  to,  i.  81,  and  note. 

Dress,  right,  ii.  336  seqq.  ;  national,  ii.  337  ;  dress-making,  ii.  325  ;  let- 
ter on  *'  sad  colored  costumes,"  ii.  338. 

Drunkenness,  and  Crime,  ii.  315 ;  a  crime  in  itself,  ib.  ;  instance  of 
death  by,  ii.  242  (note). 

Dudley,  Lord,  u  Angelico"  in  collection  of  pictures  of,  i.  55,  and  note. 

Dulwich,  railway  at,  ii.  290. 

Duncan's,  Mr.,  "  Shiplake,  on  the  Thames,"  i.  196  (note\ 

D  irer,  Albert,  i.  42,  68;  sfrnd  Holbein,  their  theology  of  death,  i.  118. 

Durham  Cathedral,  i.  158. 

Duty,  meaning  of  the  word,  ii.  264,  328. 

"B.  A.  F.r  letter  signed,  on  the  designs  for  the  "Foreign  Office,"  i. 
102. 

u  Eagle's  Nest  "  (see  Ruskin,  books  quoted),  ii.  332. 
Earth-Gods,  ii.  349. 

Eastlake,  Sir  C,  attack  on,  i.  48  (note),  49,  94  ;  his  knowledge  of  oil 

pictures,  i.  51,  57  (note)  ;  his  paintings,  and  Byron's  poems,  i.  34. 

 Mr.  C.  L.,  his  book  on  the  Gothic  Revival,  i.  152  (note). 

" Economist,''  letter  in  Daily  Telegraph  from,  ii.  244,  247  (note). 
Economy  defined,  its  three  senses,  ii.  339  ;  meaning  of  the  word,  ii. 

298.  (See  Political  Economy. ) 
Edinburgh,  ii.  331  ;  improvements  at,  i.  142,  147  ;  Sundays  at,  ii.  217 ; 

Trinity  Chapel,  i.  144  ;  University  of,  and  Prof.  Hodgson,  ii.  247 

seqq. 

 Castle,  alterations  at,  i.  144,  146,  147  ;  its  grandeur,  ib.  ;  no 

longer  a  military  position,  i.  147. 

 Castle  Rock,  its  place  among  Scotch  "  craigs,"  i.  143, 144  ;  pro- 
posal to  blast,  ib. 

Education,  list  of  letters  on,  ii.  309  ;  an  " average  first-class  man,"  i.  45 ; 


392 


INDEX. 


compulsory,  ii.  310  ;  division  of  studies,  i.  44  ;  employment  the 
primal  half  of,  ii.  318  ;  involution  of  studies,  i.  45  ;  education- 
mongers,  ii.  250 ;  place  of  science  in,  i.  131 ;  "  true,"  letter  on,  ii. 
309. 

Edward  the  Confessor,  i.  158. 
Egg,  yellow  spot  on,  ii.  274. 
Ehrenberg,  0.  G.,  i.  130,  131  (note). 
Electricity,  use  of,  ii.  318. 
Elgin  marbles,  the,  i.  42. 
Ellis,  Mr.  Wynn,  i.  109  (note). 

Embankment  of  Italian  rivers,  plan  for,  ii.  300  seqq. 
Embroidery,  use  of,  ii.  339. 
Emigration,  ii  283,  314. 

Employment,  ii.  320  ;  to  be  educational,  ii.  322 ;  forms  character,  ii. 
318  ;  modes  of  for  poor,  ii.  324  ;  always  obtainable,  ii.  248,  371 ; 
principles  of,  ii.  320  seqq. 

England,  big  enough  ?  (letter)  ii.  275  ;  buildings  of  destroyed,  i.  148  ; 
and  Denmark,  ii.  223,  224 ;  France  and,  1859,  ii.  215  ;  1870,  ii. 
234  ;  independent,  ii.  292  ;  and  Italy,  1859,  ii.  212  ;  and  Italian 
inundations,  ii.  302  (note),  306  ;  and  Italy,  their  treatment  of  art, 
i.  19  ;  literature  of,  i.  118;  "  machine-and-devil  driven,"  ii.  310 
(note)  ;  and  Poland,  ii.  225  ;  protection  of  pictures  in,  i.  47 ;  and 
the  Reform  Bill,  1867,  ii.  319  ;  shopkeepers,  a  nation  of  ?  ii.  293  ; 
trade  and  policy  of,  ii.  234  ;  and  war,  ii.  222,  223,  225. 

Enid,  ii.  293. 

Enterprise,  public  and  private,  ii.  284. 
"Epitaphs,"  the  Essay  on,  ii.  292. 
Epictetus,  ib. 
Eridanus,  ii.  300. 

Etching,  George's,  Ernest,  i.  113  seqq.  ;  principles  of,  ib.  ;  (a)  chiaro- 
scuro, 116  ;  (b)  few  lines,  116  ;  (c)  a  single  biting  enough,  115  ;  (d) 
use  pencil,  116  ;  thirteenth  century  work  and  its  imitators,  ib. 

Etruscan  work,  ii.  353* 

Equity  and  Law,  ii.  263, 

Evening  Journal,  The  (Jan.  22,  1855),  review  of  "Animals  of  Scrip- 
ture1 '  in,  ii.  349. 
Examination.    (See  Art.) 

Examiner,  The,  review  of  uOur  Sketching  Club "  in,  ii.  343,  and 
note. 

Expenditure,  objects  of  public,  i.  105  ;  national,  on  pictures,  parks, 

and  peaches  respectively,  i.  94. 
"Eye-witness,  The,"  i.  68  (note). 
Eylau,  battle  of,  ii.  236. 

Eyre,  Governor,  and  the  Jamaica  Insurrection,  ii.  226,  and  note. 
Failure,  the  lesson  of,  i.  37,  122,  123. 

"Fair  Play,"  letter  of  in  Daily  Telegraph,  ii.  279  (note),  280-282  (note). 

Fairservice  (see  Scott,  Sir  Walter),  ii.  290  (note). 

Faithfull,  Miss  E.,  lecture  by,  ii.  336  (note);  letter  to,  ib. 

Fallacies,  d  priori,  ii.  251. 

Family,  meaning  of  the  word,  ii.  295. 

Farinata,  ii.  221,  and  note. 

Fashion,  change  of,  ii.  337  ;  how  to  lead,  ii.  339. 
Fate  and  trial,  the  laws  of,  i.  122  (note). 


INDEX. 


393 


Father's,  a  counsel  to  his  son,  ii.  333. 

Fauna,  Oxford  prize  for  essay  on  the,  i.  130  (note). 

Fesch,  Cardinal,  kt  Angelico  "  in  the  collection  of,  i.  55,  and  note. 

Fielding,  Copley,  and  Mr.  Ruskin,  i.  188. 

Field  sports,  morality  of,  ii.  313. 

FLsole,  i.  23. 

Finden,  engraving  in  Rogers'  Poems,  i.  96. 
Fine  Art  Society,  i.  108  (note),  156,  163. 

Fiulason,  G.  W.,  ''History  of  the  Jamaica  Case"  referred  to,  ii.  228 
(note). 

Florence,  "Angelico"  destroyed  at,  i.  48  ;  and  floods,  ii.  805;  gallery 
of,  i.  60 ;  Grhibelline  proposal  to  destroy,  ii.  221  (note)  ;  revenge  in 
old,  ii.  265. 

Flowers,  use  of  in  architecture,  i.  139  seqq.  ;  u  Alisma  Plantago,"  i.  68; 

Chrysanthema,  ii.  359  ;  Gentian,  i.  198. 
Fonfce  Bran  da,  ii.  306. 

Food,  amount  of,  determines  wages  and  price,  ii.  265. 
Forbes,  George,  Prof.,  i.  183  (note). 

Forbes,  James  David,  i.  172;  letters  on  u  his  real  greatness,"  i.  173 
seqq.  ;  and  Agassiz,  i.  172,  186  ;  his  "  Danger  of  Superficial  Knowl- 
edge "  quoted,  i.  185  (note)  ;  letter  to  Mr.  Ruskin,  i.  186  ;  letter  of 
a  pupil  of  to  Mr.  Ruskin,  i.  186. 

Force,  use  of  human,  ii.  320  seqq. 

Foreground  and  background,  painting  of,  i.  20. 

* 4  Forester,"  lecture  of  in  Daily  Telegraph  on  Field  Sports,  ii.  814 
(note). 

Forster's  Life  of  Dickens,  ii.  311  (note). 

Fortnif/Jdiy  Bedew,  Mr.  Freeman  aud  Mr.  Trollope  on  field  sports,  ii. 

313  (note). 
Fortress,  definition  of  a,  i.  145. 

Fortunes,  rapidly  accumulated,  ii.  281 ;  inequality  of  desirable,  ib. 
Fountain  of  joy  at  Siena,  ii.  306. 
Fox-hunting,  ii.  314. 

Fra  Bartolomeo,  none  in  National  Gallery,  i.  55,  and  note. 
Framing,  methods  of,  for  delicate  drawings,  i.  85. 

France  and  Austria,  loss  of  in  war,  ii.  239  ;  cathedrals  of,  i.  151  ;  empire, 
war  the  key-note  of  the  first,  vice  of  the  second,  ii.  232;  position 
of  in  1859,  ii.  215. 

Franco-Prussian  war,  letters  on,  ii.  228  seqq.  ;  cause  of,  ii.  232 ;  character 
of  the  contest,  ii.  233  ;  Germany  to  stop  within  limits,  ii.  284  ;  loss 
of  property  in,  ii.  237,  288;  misery  of,  ii.  301,  and  note  ;  England  s 
position  as  regards,  ii.  234;  refugees  during,  ii.  336  (note);  the 
Sainte  Chapelle  in  danger  during,  i.  151. 

Franchise,  female,  ii.  336  (note). 
Frange  "  ii.  355. 

"Frango,"  ii.  355. 

Fraser's  Magazine  (July,  1875),  letter  on  "  Modern  Warfare,"  ii.  234. 
Frederick  the  Great,  his  statue  at  Berlin,  ii.  218  (note)  ;  his  wars,  vir- 
tue of,  ii.  233. 
Freedom  "  not  to  be  given,"  ii.  213,  214  (note). 
Freeman,  Mr.  E.,  on  field  sports,  ii.  313  (note). 
Frere,  M.  Edouard,  escape  from  Paris,  ii.  229,  and  note. 
Fresco-painting,  laws  of,  determined  by  Perugino,  i.  117. 
"Fret,"  etymology  of,  ii.  855  seqq. 


394 


INDEX. 


"Frico,"  ii.  355. 

Frith's,  Mr.,  "  Derby  Day,"  i.  65.    (See  also  i.  11,  note.) 
Furnivall,  Mr.,  letters  to,  ii.  354. 
Fuseli  quoted,  i.  66,  81. 

Gainsborough,  his  landscapes,  i.  27 ;  his  speed,  i.  113. 

Gardens,  ii.  340. 

Garisenda,  tower  of,  i.  166. 

Gas,  effect  of,  on  pictures,  i.  101,  107. 

Generalization  in  art,  i.  82. 

Geneva,  lake  of,  i.  176  ;  its  color,  i.  192  ;  letter  to  journal  at,  153  ;  Sun- 
days at,  ii.  217. 
Genius,  the  tone  of  true,  i.  184,  185. 
Gentian,  letter  on  the,  i.  198  ;  species  of  the,  ib. 
Gentlemen,  duties  of,  to  their  peasantry,  ii.  314. 
Geological  letters  i.  169  seqq. 

Geology,  English  v.  Alpine,  i.  177  seqq,  ;  museum  of,  at  Sheffield,  ii. 
312  ;  Mr.  Ruskin's  study  of,  i.  172,  174  ;  work  needed  in  the  sci- 
ence, i.  171.    (See  also  Glaciers.) 

George,  Mr.  Ernest,  his  etchings,  i.  114  (note),  and  seqq. 

"Gerin,"  play  of,  mentioned,  ii.  369. 

Germany,  characteristics  of  the  nation,  ii.  213  ;  Emperor  of,  ii.  213 
(note) ;  Franco-Prussian  war  and,  ii.  228-234 ;  heroism  of  a  Ger- 
man girl,  ii.  293  ;  German  soldiery,  ii.  213  ;  German  women,  type 
of  features,  ii.  208. 

Ghibelline  faction  at  Florence,  ii.  221  (note). 

Ghirlandajo,  i.  53  ;  no  picture  by  in  National  Gallery,  i.  55  (note). 
Giagnano,  landslip  near,  i.  197. 
Gideon's  fleece,  i  131. 
"Gil  Bias,"  ii.  362. 
Giorgione,  i.  81. 

Giotto,  his  kt  public,"  i.  29  ;  pupil  of  Cimabue,  i.  40,  and  note,  i.  53; 
his  theology  of  death,  i.  118. 

Glaciers,  action  of  compared  with  that  of  water,  i.  171-174  ;  excavation 
of  lake  basins  by,  i.  169  seqq.  ;  the  G.  des  Bois,  i.  174-176  ;  experi- 
ments with  honey  illustrating,  i.  174  ;  hardness  of,  i.  173  ;  motion 
of,  i.  172,  173. 

Gladstone,  Mr.,  ii.  328  (note);  his  "  Juventus  Mundi,"  ii.  349  (note)  ; 
at  Naples,  i.  33,  and  note ;  and  Lord  Beaconsfield,  ii.  372. 

Glasgow,  ii.  323  ;  the  G.  Athenaeum,  ii.  310  (note)  ;  the  Lord  Rector- 
ship of  G.  University,  ii.  370  seqq. 

Glasgow  Herald,  The,  letters  in  : — 

(June  5,  1874)  "The  Value  of  Lectures,"  ii.  310. 

(Oct.  7,  1880)  The  Lord  Rectorship  of  Glasgow  University  (four  letters),  ii.  370  seqq. 
(Oct.  12,  1880)  The  Lord  Rectorship,  etc.,  ii.  372. 

Globe,  The  (Oct.  29,  1875),  "An  Oxford  Protest"  in,  ii.  364. 

''G.  M.,"  letter  of,  in  the  Reader,  i.  181. 

Gneiss,  the  rocks  of  Chamouni  made  of,  i.  175. 

Gold,  depreciation  of,  ii.  240  ;  discoveries  of,  ib.  (note). 

Gold  win  Smith,  Mr.,  on  Luxury,  ii.  267  (note). 

Good  Words,  44  Animals  of  Scripture"  reprinted  in  (1861),  ii.  350  (note). 
Gosse,  Dr.  L.  A.,  ii,  340. 


INDEX. 


395 


Gothic  architecture,  adaptability  of,  i.  122 seqq.,  128,  129  ;  and  classic,  i. 
102  (note)  ;  decoration  of,  i.  134,  136,  138  ;  effect  of  strength  in,  i. 
165 :  employment  of  various  degrees  of  skill  in,  i.  126  ;  English, 
Italian,  and  Venetian,  i.  154  ;  and  the  Oxford  Museum,  i.  125  seqq.\ 
the  G.  Revival,  i.  126,  127,  152  (note)  ;  types  of  French,  i.  151. 

Government,  the  kind  of.  needed,  ii.  282. 

Gravelotte,  battle  of,  ii.  237. 

Great  Eastern  Railway  (article  in  Daily  Telegraph  on),  the,  ii.  279. 
Greece,  the  king  of,  ii.  227  (note)  ;  oppressed  by  Greeks  only,  ii.  212; 

and  Venice,  relation  of  architecture,  i.  160. 
Greek  art,  study  of,  ii.  334. 
Grenville,  Sir  Richard,  ii.  211  (note). 
Greppond.  glacier  of,  ii.  305. 

Greswell,  Rev.  R.,  and  the  Oxford  Museum,  i.  137. 
Grief,  effect  of  trifles  on  minds  distressed  by,  i.  78. 
Griggs.  Matilda,  ii  362,  and  note, 

"Growing  old,"  article  on,  in  Y.  M.  A,  Magazine,  ii.  326. 

Grumio.    (See  Shakespeare.) 

Guelfi,  faction  at  Florence,  ii.  321  (note). 

Guido,  pictures  by,  in  the  National  Gallery,  i.  53. 

Guthrie,  letter  to  Dr.,  ii.  360. 

Guy's  bowl  at  Warwick  Castle,  i.  150. 

Hamilton,  Sir  W.'s  Logic,  ii.  257. 

Hanging,  who  deserve,  ii.  317. 

Hanover,  Sundays  at,  ii.  217. 

Harbor-making,  ii.  324. 

Harding,  i.  37. 

Harold  the  Saxon,  i.  158. 

Harrison,  letter  to  W.  H.,  ii.  367. 

Hartz  minerals,  purchase  of  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  ii.  259. 

Hartz  mountains,  ii.  218. 

Hasselt's  "Histoire  de  Rubens"  referred  to,  i.  28  (note). 
Hawley's,  Sir  J.,  "  Musjid  "  (Derby  winner),  ii.  216  (note). 
Health,  chair  of  Physical,  at  Oxford,  ii.  333. 
Hem  ling,  i.  72. 

Henry  VI. 's  Psalter,  i.  65,  and  note. 
Herodotus  referred  to,  i.  180.    (See  also  Bubastis.) 
Heroism,  true  forms  of,  ii.  230 ;  instance  of,  ii.  293  ;  and  vice,  ii. 
329. 

Hervet,  Gentian,  his  "Economist  of  Xenophon,"  ii.  335  (note). 
Hervey,  Lord  Francis,  i.  103  (note). 
Highlanders,  a  characteristic  of,  ii.  212. 
Highlands,  the  rocks  of  the,  i.  143. 

Historical  monuments,  loss  of,  in  England,  i.  155  ;  and  small  interest 

taken  in,  i.  43. 
History,  true,  what  it  is,  i.  42 ;  how  written  hitherto,  ib. 
Hobbes,  definition  of  Justice,  ii.  258  (note),  262. 

Hodgson,  Professor,  and  Mr.  Ruskin  on  supply  and  demand,  ii.  251  seqq. 

Hogarth,  his  "public,"  i.  28  ;  his  "  Two  'prentices,"  ii.  340. 

Holbein,  the  libel  on,  240  (note),  247,  and  note ;  portrait  of  George 

Gyzen  at  Berlin,  ii.  219,  218  (note);  his  quiet  work,  i.  112  ;  Mr. 

Ruskin's  article  on,  ii.  218  (note)  ;  his  theology  of  death,  i.  118  ; 

Wornum's  life  of,  ii.  218  (note). 


396 


INDEX. 


Holy  Sepulchre,  and  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  159. 

Hol'yoake,  Mr.  G.  J.,  letters  on  Co-operation  to,  ii.  274;  his  "  History  oi 
Co  operation,"  ii.  274  (note)  ;  reference  to  Mr.  Ruskin  in  America, 
ii.  269,  and  note  ;  and  the  Sheffield  Museum,  lb. 

Homer,  Odyssey  quoted  or  referred  to  (vi.  90),  ii.  347,  348  (note)  ;  (xix. 
562),  i.  81  ;  (xxii.  end),  ii.  205. 

Iloniton  lace-makers,  ii.  322,  323. 

"  Honos,"  existence  of  auy  absolute,  ii.  262. 

Horace,  expurgated  editions  of,  ii.  333  ;  his  theology  of  death,  i  118; 

quoted  or  referred  to,  ii.  258  (Odes,  iii.  3,  1),  291,  300  (Odes,  iii. 

16,  29),  and  note,  339  ;  study  of,  in  England,  ii.  329. 
Horeb,  i.  131. 
House-7^,  ii.  294. 
Houses,  letter  on  modern,  ii.  297. 
Huddersfield  and  the  Jamaica  Insurrection,  ii.  226. 
Hughes,  Mr.  T.,  M.P.  for  Lambeth,  ii.  227  (notes). 
Hullah,  Mr.,  on  music,  i.  40  (note),  41. 

Hume,  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  the  Eyre  Defence  Fund,  ii.  228  (note). 

Hunt,  Mr.  Alfred,  and  the  Liverpool  Academy,  i.  79  (note). 

.  Mr.  Holman,  i.  77;  "  Awakening  Conscience,  The,"  i.  77;  his 

early  work  criticised  in  the  Times,  i,  66  (note)  ;  exaggerates  reflected 
light,  i.  71  ;  "  Light  of  the  World,"  i.  74  seqq. ;  technical  details  of, 

i.  75  ;  "Valentine  rescuing  Sylvia,"  i.  67  (note),  70,  71  seqq. 
 William,  i.  121.  (Mr.  Ruskin's  '*  Notes  on  Prout  and  Hunt,"  re- 
ferred to.    See  Ruskin.) 

Hunting,  ii.  314. 
Husbands,  duty  of,  ii.  335. 
44  Hymn,"  meaning  of,  ii.  334. 
Hyssop,  ii.  337. 

Ideal,  definition  of  the,  i.  22,  and  note. 

Idle,  treatment  of  the,  ii.  321. 

"  Illustrations  of  Scripture,"  ii.  350. 

Imagination,  no  food  for,  in  modern  life,  ii.  340. 

Increased  Railway  Fares  (articles  in  Daily  Telegraph),  ii.  277  (note). 

Indians,  ideas  of  duty  in,  ii.  202  ;  irrigation  in  India,  ii.  304. 

Infidelity,  modern,  i.  144 

Ingoldsby  Legends  ("Jackdaw  of  Rheims")  referred  to,  ii.  357. 

Initials,  no  need  of,  in  scientific  discussion,  i.  182. 

Iniquity,  an  exploded  word,  ii.  299. 

Interest  one's  own,  ii.  203,  ii.  250. 

Interference,  public,  with  the  individual,  ii.  319. 

Intervention,  principles  of,  ii.  213,  215,  216. 

Inundations,  ii.  300-307. 

Iron  manufacture,  ii.  250  ;  modern  iron-work,  ii.  313. 

Irrigation  for  Italy,  ii.  303,  304. 

Irvings,  Mr.,  "Shylock,"  i.  162. 

Isle  of  Does,  emigration  from  the,  ii,  283. 

Italian  and  English  treatment  of  art,  i.  23  ;  masters,  pencilling  of,  i.  112  ; 

mannerisms  of  Italian  masters,  i.  18. 
Italy,  state  of  in  1859,  letters  on,  ii.  209,  215,  219  ;  extent  of  question, 

ii.  220  5  position  of,  ii  215  ;  passions  of  people  noble,  ii.  302  (note)  ; 
power  of,  ii  305  ;  belt-government  ii.  212  ;  streams  of,  108  seqq. 

"Italy,"  a  reputed  Turner,  i.  109,  and  note. 


INDEX. 


897 


<:  Jackdaw  of  Rheims  "  (Ingoldsby  Legends),  ii.  357. 

Jamaica  Insurrection  and  Governor  Eyre,  ii.  225  seqq. 

Jameson's  44  Early  Italian  Painters  "  referred  to,  i.  23  (note) ;  tt  History 

of  Our  Lord,"  i.  49  (note),  55  (note). 
Jameson's  "Scotch  Ballads,"  i.  83,  84  (note). 
Janssens,  Abraham,  and  Rubens,  i.  28. 
Japan,  war  in,  ii.  223. 
"  Jean  de  Nivelle  V  mentioned,  ii.  370. 
Jena,  battle  of,  ii.  236,  239. 
Jerusalem,  ii.  354. 
Jezebel,  ii.  351. 

Johnson,  Mr.  Richard,  on  commerce,  ii.  271,  and  note. 

Journal  de  Geneoe,  V Esperance,  1873,  Letter  on  Women's  Work,  ii.  235. 

Judgment-throne,  condemnation  from  the,  ii.  228. 

Jukes,  Mr.  T.  B  ,  F.R.S.,  letters  on  geology,  etc.,  i.  177  (note),  180. 

Jussum,  ii.  253,  254. 

Just  price,  a,  ii.  299  (note). 

Justice,  abstract,  ii.  256  ;  conceivable  as  a  hideously  bad  thing,  ii.  262 
(note\  264  ;  definition  and  derivation  of,  ii.  253  ;  defined  as  "  con- 
formity with  any  rule,  good  or  bad,"  ii.  255,  263  (note),  262;  need 
of,  ii.  216  ;  principles  of,  ii.  250 ;  different  words  for,  ii.  253. 

Justinian,  summary  of  law  by,  ii.  265,  and  note. 

Katharines  instrument  (see  Shakespeare),  ii.  356. 

Kail  leaf,  the,  used  in  Melrose  Abbey,  i.  139  (note).  (See  Scott,  "The 
Abbot,"  chap.  xvi. ;  "  The  Monastery,"  Introduction.) 

Keble  College,  Oxford,  "The  Light  of  the  World"  at,  i.  74  (note). 

Kennedy,  Mr.  T.  S.,  copy  of  Turner's  "  Fluelen  "  possessed  by,  i.  108 
(note). 

Kensington  Museum,  Art  School  at,  i.  103  (note) ;  Turner's  at,  i.  101 
(note).  Kidderminster  Times,  The  (July  28, 1876),  letter  on  "  Ribbes- 
ford  Church,"  i.  155. 

King  Charles  the  Martyr,  ii.  269,  270. 

King,  the  first  duty  of  a,  ii.  300  ;  must  govern  the  rivers  of  his  country,  ib. 

Kinglake,  Mr.  A.  W. ,  on  Savoy  and  Denmark,  ii.  225. 

Kingsley's,  Charles,  "  Ode  to  the  North-East  Wind,"  ii.  255  (note). 

Kingsley,  Mr.,  of  Sidney  Sussex  College,  on  optics,  i.  97-9. 

Kiss'  Amazon,  ii.  219,  218  (note). 

Koniggratz,  battle  of,  ii.  236. 

Labor,  as  a  discipline,  ii.  322  ;  the  forces  of,  order  of  their  employment, 
ii.  233,  321;  giving  of  the  best  charity,  ii.  317;  its  influence  on 
character,  ii.  319 ;  price  of,  ii.  243,  265  ;  promise  to  find,  ii.  273. 

"  La  Fille  du  Tambour  Major,"  Oifenbach's,  mentioned,  ii.  369. 

Lake  basins,  excavated  by  glaciers,  i.  170  (see  Glaciers). 

Lambeth,  Mr.  T.  Hughes,  M.P.  for,  ii.  225,  226. 

Lammermuirs,  the,  i.  143. 

Lancet,  The,  founded  by  Mr.  Wakley,  i.  34  (note). 
Landseer,  i.  37,  70  (note) ;  illustrated  by  Burns,  i.  34. 
Landslip  near  Giagnano,  letters  on,  i.  197. 
"Langharne  Castle,"  Turner's,  i.  105,  and  note. 
<k  Le  Chalet"  mentioned,  ii.  386. 
Launce  (see  Shakespeare),  ii.  289. 
Law  Courts,  the  new,  i.  153,  and  note. 


398 


INDEX. 


Laws,  criminal,  ii.  329 ;  equity  and  law,  ii.  263  ;  eternal,  and  practical 
difficulties,  ii.  288 ;  of  nature,  ii.  273 ;  summary  of  law,  by  Black- 
stone  and  Justinian,  ii.  265,  and  note  ;  lextalionis,  lexgratiae,  ii.  265. 

Lazarus,  ii.  351. 

Leconfield,  ' '  Turner  "  in  possession  of  Lord,  i.  109  (note). 
Lectures,  the  value  of,  i.  114,  and  note. 
Lee,  Fred.  Richard,  R.A.,  i.  27,  and  note. 

Leech,  John,  letter  on  his  outlines,  i.  113;  characteristics  of  his  work, 
lb  ;  chiaroscuro,  u  felicity  and  prosperous  haste,"  i.  112  ;  death  of, 
i.  Ill  (note) ;  especial  value  of  first  sketches,  i.  112  ;  fastidious 
work,  i.  113  ;  proposal  to  distribute  his  drawings  among  national 
schools,  i.  113,  i.  65  (note). 

Leicester  Chronicle  and  Mercury  (Jan.  31,  1880),  letter  on  "  Purchase  of 
Pictures,"  i.  65. 

Leicester,  proposal  for  picture-gallery  at,  i.  65. 

Leith,  Mr.  J.,  and  the  Blackfriars  Bible  class,  Aberdeen,  ii.  328  (note). 
Lennox,  Lord  H.,  i.  62  (note)  ;  i.  103  (note). 
Lenses  and  specula,  grinding  of,  i.  98. 

Leonardo  da  Vinci,  i.  81  ;  designed  canals  of  Lombardy,  ii.  306. 
Leoni  Levi,  M.,  and  statistics  of  drink,  ii.  315. 
Leonidas,  ii.  211  (note). 

L'Esperance,  Geneva,  letter  u  Woman's  Work"  in,  ii.  335. 

Letter,  "to  the  author  of  a  review, "  ii.  363  ;  black  letter,  ii.  353  (note), 
352  ;  letters,  carriage  of,  ii.  278,  285.  (See  for  the  letters  in  the  book 
the  Tables  of  Contents  and  the  Index  under  the  special  headings, 
Appendix ;  Architecture  ;  Art  Criticism  and  Art  Education  ;  Edu- 
cation ;  Literary  Criticism  ;  Pictures  and  Artists  ;  Political  Economy  ; 
Politics  ;  Pre-Raphaelitism  ;  Public  Institutions  and  the  National 
Gallery  ;  Railways ;  Roman  Inundations  ;  Science ;  Servants  and 
Houses  ;  Turner  ;  War  ;  Women,  their  work  and  their  dress.) 

Lewis.  John,  i.  80  ;  ''Encampment  under  Sinai,"  i.  117  (note)  ;  "The 
Hhareem,"  i.  79,  and  note. 

u  Liber  Studiorum,"  value  of,  i.  100  ;  sale  of  original  plates,  ii.  271. 

Liberalism,  modern,  ii,  372,  373. 

Liberty  and  order,  ii.  216  ;  and  slavery,  ii.  291,  292. 

Liebreich,  Dr.,  lecture  on  Turner  and  Mulready,  i.  152,  and  note. 

"  Life's  Midday,"  song  in  •«  Y.  M.  A.  Magazine,'"  ii.  327. 

Light,  effect  of  on  drawings,  i.  91,  92,  101,  104,  108  ;  upon  water,  phe- 
nomenon of,  i.  86  ;  44  Light  of  the  World,"  i.  74  seqq. 

"  Limner  and  Illumination."  letter  on,  ii.  352. 

Limousin,  the,  ii.  234. 

Lincoln,  President,  death  of,  ii.  255,  and  note  ;  English  opinion  of,  ib. 

Liudisfarne,  i.  158. 

Literature,  what  it  includes,  i.  44. 

Literary  criticism,  list  of  letters  on,  ii.  341. 

Literary  Gazette  (Nov.  13,  1858);  "  Turner  Sketches  and  Drawings" 
(letter),  i.  91,  and  note  ;  mention  of  Edinburgh  Castle  in,  i.  137,  and 
note. 

Liverpool  Albion — 

(January  11,  1858),  Letters  on  Pre-Raphaelitism  in  Liverpool,"  i.  79. 
(November  2,  1863),  44  The  Foreign  Policy  of  England,"  ii.  221. 
(November  9,  1872),  "To  the  author  of  a  Review,"  ii.  363. 

Articles  on  u  Disciple  of  Art  and  Votary  of  Science  "  in, 
ib.  (note). 


INDEX. 


399 


Liverpool  Academy,  i.  79  (note) ;  Institute,  Mr.  Ruskin's  refusal  to 

lecture  at,  ii.  221  (note)  ;  Pre-Raphaelitism  in,  i.  79  (note). 
Locke,  ii.  257. 

Logic,  instance  of  English,  ii.  291. 

Lombard/,  the  canals  of,  ii.  306  ;  insurrection,  ii.  210,  and  note. 

London,  ii.  373  ;  London  and  Northwestern  Railway  accidents,  ii.  284 
(note) ;  the  streets  of  (letter),  ii.  307  seqq.  ;  London  Review  (May  1(3, 
1861),  letter  on  "The  Reflection  of  Rainbows',"  i.  201. 

Lorraine  and  Alsace,  ii.  234. 

Louise,  Queen  of  Prussia,  her  tomb,  ii.  218,  and  note. 

Louvre,  the,  arrangement  of,  i.  60  ;  preservation  of  drawings  at,  i.  90  ; 
richly  furnished,  i.  95  ;  salon  carre,  i.  60  ;  pictures  in  :  "  Immacu- 
late Conception,"  i.  90  (note),  91  ;  "Marriage  in  Cana,"  i.  90; 
"  Susannah  and  the  Elders,"  i.  60  (note). 

Love,  the  conqueror  of  lust,  ii.  330,  333. 

Lowe,  Mr.,  and  Mr.  Ruskin,  ii.  365. 

Lucerna  Valley,  the,  ii.  217,  218. 

Lucina  (the  goddess  "  who  brings  things  to  light, "  and  especially,  there- 
fore, of  birth),  i.  175. 
Lust  (see  Love). 

Luxury,  of  the  present  age,  i.  32 ;  and  political  economy,  ii.  267,  268, 
276. 

Lydian  modes,  ii.  334. 

"  M.  A.,"  Letter  on  M  limner  "  from,  ii.  352. 

"M.  A.  C,"  Letter  on  atmospheric  pressure  from,  i.  181. 

Macaulay,  Lord,  saying  of.  quoted  and  criticised,  i.  185,  and  note  ;  tone 

of  his  mind,  i.  185. 
Machiavelli  quoted,  ii.  221  (note). 
Machinery,  use  of,  ii.  321. 

Macmillan's  Magazine  (Nov.,  1870),  "  Sad-colored  costumes,"  ii.  338. 

Madonna,  the,  and  Venus,  i.  159. 

Magdeburg,  sack  of,  ii.  238. 

Magenta,  ii.  209  (note),  237. 

Malamocco,  ii.  305. 

Malines,  "Rubens"  at,  i.  49. 

Manchester,  Art  Treasures  Exhibition,  1858,  i.  105  (note) ;  Chamber  of 
Commerce,  ii.  271  (note) ;  Dramatic  Reform  Association  of,  ii.  369 
(note) ;  Ruskin  Society  of,  ii.  349. 

Manufacture  and  Art,  i.  43  ;  of  dress,  ii.  337. 

Marengo,  battle  of,  ii.  236. 

Market  the  laws  of  honest,  i.  162  (note). 

Marks,  Mr.  H.  S.,  R.A  ,  Letter  on  F.  Walker  to,  i.  116  seqq. 

Marriage,  ii.  333  ;  "Marriage  or  Celibacy  "  (Daily  Telegraph  article  on), 
ii.  275  (note). 

Mars,  i.  159. 

Martin,  illustrated  by  Milton,  i.  34. 
Marylebone  Council  ii.  298  (note). 

Maskelyne,  Mr.  Nevil  S.,  M.P.,  i.  63,  and  note  ;  his  work  on  minerals 

at  the  British  Museum,  i.  64. 
"Matilda  Y.,"  letter  of,  i.  24,  and  note  ;  Matilda  Griggs,  letter  on,  ii. 

262. 

Mattie,  carefn'  (see  Scott's  "Rob  Roy  ")  ii.  290. 
Maw,  J.  H.,  Letter  from,  i.  187  (note),  195  (note). 


400 


INDEX. 


Matthew,  St.,  ii.  214. 

Means  of  Life,  the,  ii.  269,  270. 

Mechanical  power,  natural  to  be  used  before  artificial,  i.  131. 
Medicine,  to  be  learnt  by  children,  ii.  333. 
Meduna,  M.,  and  St  Mark's,  i.  165. 
Meissonier,  his  pictures,  i.  125. 

Melrose,  i.  138  ;  the  monks  of  (see  Scott's  "Abbot,"  chap,  xvi.),  i.  138 

(note). 
Mendelssohn,  ii.  151. 
Mercury,  experiment  with,  i.  192. 
Mestre,  ii.  15. 

Marlborough  House.    (See  Turner  Drawings.) 

Michael  Angelo,  i.  143. 

Milan,  the  French  in,  ii.  209  (note),  213. 

Mill.  J.  S.,  ii.  332  (note)  ;  direction  of  his  thought,  ii.  227;  and  the 
Jamaica  Insurrection,  ii.  226,  227  ;  political  economy  of,  ii.  272 

(note). 

Millais,  Mr.,  i.  73  (note),  80;  criticised  in  the  Times  (1851),  i.  66  (note); 
early  work,  i.  66  ;  flesh-painting  by,  i.  72  ;  painted  glass  of,  i.  73  ; 
pictures  of  mentioned:  **  Autumn  Leaves,"  i.  83  (note);  "Blind 
Girl."  i.  79  (note),  83  (note);  early  sacred  picture  (1850),  i.  67; 
"  Ferdinand  lured  by  Ariel,"  i.  67  (note) ;  "  Mariana,"  i.  67  (note), 
69,  70,  73  ;  "Portrait  of  a  Gentleman  and  his  Grandchild, "  i.  67 
(note) ;  "  Pot  Pourri,"  ii.  361 ;  "Return  of  the  Dove  to  the  Ark," 
i.  67  (note),  70,  72  :  "  Wives  of  the  Sons  of  Noah,"  i.  70  ;  "  Wood- 
man's Daughter,"  i.  67  (note). 

Miller,  John,  collection  of  pictures  of,  i.  83  (note). 

Milton  quoted  ('•  Com  us,"  i.  301),  ii.  355;  tk  Paradise  Lost,"  i.  33. 

Mincio  the,  ii.  212,  216,  306. 

Miniatures,  painting  of,  i.  117;  use  of,  120,  124. 

Miscellaneous  Letters,  list  of  subjects,  ii.  275. 

Missal  paintings,  condition  of,  good,  and  why,  i.  93,  94. 

Mistress,  an  ideal  house-,  ii.  295. 

Mitford,  Mary  Russell,  ii.  360  (note),  360. 

Mitrailleuse  and  musket,  relative  effect  of,  ii.  236. 

Mock-castles,  etc.,  i.  148. 

Modern  houses,  letter  on,  ii.  297  ;  world,  destruction  of  buildings  by 

the,  i.  155  ;  theology  of,  i.  118.    (See  also  Age,  the  Present.) 
"  Modern  Painters."    (See  under  Ruskin,  Mr.) 

Monetary  and  Mining  Gazette  (Nov.  13,  1875),  letter  on  4  4  The  Defini- 
tion of  Wealth,"  ii.  271. 

Money,  true,  ii.  304  ;  definition  of,  ii.  271,  and  note  ;  distribution  of,  ii. 
250  ;  ill  g-ot,  ill  spent,  ii.  330  ;  loss  of,  ii.  323  ;  how  made  and  lost, 
ii  275.  276  ;  pedigree  of,  ii.  270  ;  how  the  rich  get  and  spend,  ii. 
262-266  ;  value  of,  ii.  44  ;  lowered  value  of,  its  effect,  ii.  241. 

Montanvert,  the,  i.  175. 

Montaperto,  battle  of,  ii.  221  (note). 

Mont  Rlanc,  guides  up.  ii.  254,  257.  259  (note);  Cenis  (and  James 
Barry),  i.  15,  16  (note)  ;  St.  Angelo,  ii.  304  j  Viso,  ii.  217. 

Monthly  Packet,  The  (Nov.,  1863),  "Proverbs  on  right  dress  "  ii.  337. 

Moore,  Mr.  Morris,  and  the  National  Gallery,  i.  47  (note),  57. 

Moore,  Thomas,  National  Airs,  "  Oft  in  the  stilly  night,' '  referred  to, 
i.  77  ;  his  14  Public,"  i.  28. 

Morality  of  Field  Sports,  ii.  313  seqq. 


INDEX. 


401 


More,  Sir  T.,  " Utopia "  of,  ii.  367. 
Morgarten,  battle  of,  ii.  210,  and  note. 

Morning  Chronicle  (Jan.  20,  1855),  "  The  Animals  of  Scripture,  a  Re« 
view,"  ii.  350. 

Morning  Post  (July  7, 1864),  letter,  "The  Position  of  Denmark,"  ii.  223. 

Morris,  Mr.  William,  and  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  152. 

Mosaic  Law,  the,  ii.  272. 

Mother,  place  of  a,  ii.  832. 

Mountings  of  drawiugs.    (See  Drawings.) 

Mozart,  ii.  346. 

Mulready,  i.  72,  73  (note) ;  Dr.  Liebreich  on,  i.  151,  and  note. 
Munro,  Mr.,  and  the  Oxford  Museum,  i.  186. 

Murchison,  Sir  Roderick,  and  the  Excavation  of  G  laciers,  i.  169  (note) ; 

and  the  Eyre  Defence  Fund,  ii.  228  (note). 
Murillo's  k<  Immaculate  Conception,"  i.  90  (note),  91. 
Muscle,  use  of,  in  labor,  ii.  322. 

Museum,  a  modern,  ii.  312  ;  a  national,  its  objects  and  uses,  i.  63;  St. 
George's,  ii.  362. 

Music,  ii.  339  ;  the  art  of,  ii  334  ;  a  less  common  faculty  than  drawing, 

i.  40,  98 ;  ear  for,  commoner  than  eye  for  color,  i.  29. 
Musjid,  Derby-winner,  ii.  216  (note). 

Mycenae,  ii.  356. 

Mythology,  ii.  349  ;  Christian  and  Greek,  i.  160  ;  and  religion,  i.  118. 

Naples,  Mr.  Gladstone  and  the  political  prisoners  at,  ii.  28  (note)  ;  storm 
at,  ii.  304. 

Napoleon  Bonaparte,  i.  55  (note),  59  ;  ii.  232 ;  the  Third,  ii.  212,  232, 

233  ;  purchase  of  the  Louvre  "  Murillo  "  by,  i.  90. 
Nations,  UA  nation's  defences,"  ii.  301  ;  defences  of,  "do  not  pay!" 

ii.  303  ;  gain  and  loss  of,  275,  276 ;  their  quality  shown  in  that  of 
their  servants,  ii.  287 ;  their  strength  in  union,  not  in  number,  ii. 
231. 

National  Gallery,  the  (see  also  Pictures)  ;  debate  on  vote  for,  i.  88  (note)  ; 
an  European  jest,  i.  48  ;  an  ideal  arrangement  of,  i.  SSseqq.,  60-62  ; 
keepers  of  :  Eastlake,  Sir  C,  i.  48  (note)  ;  Uwins  R.A. ,  i.  56  (note); 
Wornum,  i.  88 ;  Letters  to  Times  on,  i.  47,  56,  88  ;  a  new  gallery 
proposed,  i.  60,  62,  and  note ;  no  Ghirlandajo,  Fra  Bartolomeo,  or 
Verrochio  in,  i.  55  (note),  56 ;  Parliamentary  Blue  Books  referred 
to,  i.  47  (note),  53  (note),  57  (note),  59  (note)  ;  popular  idea  of  its 
object,  i.  58;  restoration  of  pictures  in.  i.  48  (note)  and  seqq.,  56; 
purchase  of  pictures  for,  i.  53,  55,  56 ;  strictures  on,  i.  53  (note) ; 
the  Vernon  gift,  i.  61,  and  note. 

National  Gallery,  Pictures  referred  to  in  the — 

Albertinelli's  "Virgin  and  Child,1'  i.  55  (note). 
Angelico's  "  Adoration  of  the  Magi,"  ib. 

"        "  Christ  amid  the  Blessed,"  ib. 
Bellini,  "  Doge  Leonardo  Loredano,"  i.  56. 
Claude's  "  Marriage  of  Isaac  and  Rebecca,"  i.  57  (note), 
;t     "  Mill,"  i.  57  (note). 
"     "  Queen  of  Sheba,"  i.  57  (note). 
"     "  Seaport."  i.  57  (note). 
Cuyp,     "  Large  Dort."  i.  50  (note). 

"       "  Landscape,  Evening,"  ib. 
Guido,  "  Lot  and  his  Daughters,"  i  53, 
'*       "Magdalen,"  ib.  (note). 

Vol.  ii. —28 


402 


INDEX. 


Guido,  "St.  Jerome,"  ib, 

"       "  Susannah  and  the  Elders,1'  ib. 
Holbein,  libel  on,  i.  48  (note),  56,  and  note. 
Lorenzo  di  Credi,  "  Virgin  and  Child,"  i.  55  (note). 
Perogino,  "Virgin  and  Child,  with  St.  Jerome  and  St.  Francis,"  ib. 
m        "Virgin  and  Infant  Christ,  with  St.  John,"  ib. 

•*       "  Virgin  and  Infant  Christ,  with  Archangels  Michael,  Raphael,  and 

Tobias,"  ib.;  120. 
Poussin,  "  Sacrifice  of  Isaac,"  i.  18,  and  note. 
Rubens,  "  Judgment  of  Paris,"  i.  55,  and  note. 

"       "  Peace  and  War,'1  i.  49. 
Titian,    "  Bacchus  and  Ariadne,"  i.  50-64. 
Turner,  "Dido  building  Carthage,"  i.  57,  and  note. 
"        "The  sun  rising  in  a  mist,"  ib. 

'*  Drawings  and  Sketches,  i.  61,  and  note  ;  84  (note). 

Van  Eyck,  "  Jean  Arnolfini  and  his  wife,"  i.  57  (note). 
Velasquez,  "Philip  IV.  hunting  the  Wild  Boar,"  i.  50. 
Veronese,  '*  Consecration  of  St.  Nicholas,"  i.  57,  and  note. 

"         "  Rape  of  Europa,"  ib, 
Wilkie,  "  The  Blind  Fiddler,"  i.  22. 

Natural  History,  study  of,  i.  132 ;  letter  on,  i.  199. 

Nature  and  Art,  letter  on  "  Art  Teaching  by  Correspondence  "  in,  i.  46. 

Nature,  general  ignorance  of,  i.  30  ;  human,  not  corrupt,  ii.  329  ;  its 

lessons  true,  i.  38  ;  neglect  of,  i.  31  ;  understanding  of,  ib. 
Neptune,  ii.  349. 

Neutrality,  the  a  difficulties  of,"  letter,  ii.  232;  of  England,  ii.  221. 
New  Shakespeare  Society,  letters  in  Transactions  of,  ii.  353  seqq. 
Newspaper,  duty  and  power  of  an  editor,  ii.  287. 
Newtonian  law,  i.  194  (note),  195. 
Newton's  "  Principia,"  i.  28. 

New  Year's  Address  and  Messages  to  Blackfriars  Bible  Class,  Aberdeen  : 

"  Act,  act  in  the  living  present "  (1873)  ii.  327. 
"  Laborare  est  orare"  (1874),  ii.  328. 
"  A  Pagan  Message  "  (1878),  ii.  329. 


Nineteenth  Century:  Mr.  Ruskin's  1 1  Fiction,  Fair  and  Foul,"  quoted, 

ii.  290  (note). 
Nino  Pisano,  i.  53. 
Nobert,  line -ruling  by,  i.  97. 
Non-iquity,  ii.  303. 

Norton,  Prof.  C.  E.  (U.S.A.),  letters  of  Mr.  Ruskin  to,  i.  88  (note),  100 

(note),  108  (note) ;  lecture  on  Turner,  ib. 
' '  Notes  on  Employment  of  the  Criminal  Classes"  {Daily  Telegraph, 

letter  and  pamphlet),  ii.  322-326  seqq. 
"  Notes  on  Prout  and  Hunt"  (see  Ruskin,  Mr.),  i.  161  (note). 
"Notre  Dame  de  Paris,"  its  place  among  French  cathedrals,  i.  149. 
Norwich,  Dr.  Browne  at,  ii.  308,  and  note. 

"  Oak  Silkworms,' '  letter  in  Times  (Oct.  24,  1862)  on,  ii.  340. 
Obedience,  the  real  "  Divine  service,    ii.  329. 
Offenbach's  "  Fille  du  Tambour  Major  "  referred  to,  ii.  369. 
Oil  painting,  determined  by  Titian,  i.  117. 
Old  Adam  (see  Shakespeare),  ii.  290. 
Old  Masters,  exhibition,  i.  109. 
Oliver,  Rowland  for  an,  ii.  249. 


INDEX. 


403 


Opie,  i.  81. 

Optical  work,  delicacy  of,  i.  97,  98. 

Optics,  writers  on,  i.  191  (note). 

Organ,  street  nuisance  of,  ii.  224,  225  (note). 

Ornament,  natural  forms  in,  i.  126 ;  in  dress,  ii.  336. 

O'Shea,  and  the  Oxford  Museum,  i.  136,  140  (note). 

«4  Ought  "  and  "  are,"  ii.  274. 

"  Our  Sketching  Club/'  ii.  343,  and  note. 

Oxford,  Ttalliol  oriel-window,  i.  132 ;  bishop  of,  on  education,  ii.  229 
(note),  178 ;  Bodleian  library,  traceries  of,  i.  132  ;  Christ  Church, 
fan-vaulting  at,  ib.  ;  drawing  schools,  i.  105,113;  examinations, 
letter  on,  i.  38;  meeting  in  on  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  167;  print- 
sellers,  ii.  230;  "An  Oxford  Protest,"  ii.  159;  rich  buildings,  i. 
132. 

Oxford  Museum,  the,  letters  on,  i.  122-142;  Acland,  Dr.,  his  lecture 
on,  quoted,  i.  122  (note),  128  (note),  130  (note)  ;  building  of,  i.  123 
(note)  ;  capital  in,  i.  138,  and  note  ;  decoration  of,  i.  125, 133, 134, 
135,  141 ;  porch  proposed,  i.  128  ;  sculpture  of,  i.  135  ;  spandril  in, 
i.  142  ;  success  of  its  Gothic  architecture,  i.  128  ;  its  teaching,  i.  135  ; 
the  west  front,  i.  136. 

Padua,  ii.  305. 

Painters,  how  roused  to  exercise  their  strength,  i,  136 ;  vision  of,  how 

it  affects  their  pictures,  i.  152. 
Painting  and  poetry,  closely  allied,  i.  34  ;  portrait  painting,  ii.  348. 
Pall  Mall  Gazette,  The — 

.  (April  18, 1865)  u  Strikes  v.  Arbitration,"  ii.  248. 

Articles  on  strikes,  ib. 

44       masters  and  men,  ii.  251,  and  note. 
(April  21,  1865)  "  Work  and  Wages,"  ii.  251. 
(    "    25.    44  )        M  44      ii.  253. 

(May     2,    *•  )        14  44      ii.  255. 

(  44       9,    44  )        44  ii.  260. 

(  44     22,    «4  )        44  44      ii.  263. 

Interpolation  of,  in  Mr.  Buskin's  letters,  ii.  258-260. 
(March  1,  1867)  "  At  the  Play,"  ii.  361. 
(May  1,  1867)    Standard  of  Wages,"  ii.  266. 
(January  31,  1868)  "True  Education."  ii.  309. 
(     44       11),  1871)  "  A  Nation's  Defences,"  ii.  301. 
(December  28,  1871)  44  The  Streets  of  London,"  ii.  307. 
(March  16,  1872)  ''Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence— a  defence,"  i.  151. 
(  "      21,    14  )  41  Mr.  Ruskin's  Influence — a  rejoinder,"  i.  153. 
(November  4,  1872)  44  Madness  and  Crime,"  ii.  3^6. 
(January  24,  1873)  "How  the  Rich  spend  their  Money,"  ii.  267. 
(     "      29,    44  )         *  44  44       ii.  268. 

(     "      31,    '«■)  .     ,*!  44  44       ii.  269. 

(     "      11,  1875)  44  A  Mistaken  Review,"  ii.  343. 
(     "      19,    44  )  44  The  Position  of  Critics,"  ii.  345. 

Pan-droseion,  i.  158. 

Parents  and  children,  relation  of,  ii.  331. 

Paris,  fortifications  of,  ii.  305  ;  in  Franco-Prussian  war,  ii.  231  ;  theatres 
of,  ii.  369. 

Parliament,  ii.  326  ;  of,  1868,  ii.  319  j  debate  on  Denmark,  ii.  233  ;  on 

Turner  bequest,  i.  88;  Houses  of,  ii.  353  (note),  354. 
Partnership  of  masters  and  men,  ii.  270,  and  note. 
Patmore,  Coventry,  i.  67  (note),  ii.  346,  349  (note). 


404 


INDEX, 


Paton,  Waller,  U.S.A.,  i.  80,  and  note. 
Patriotism,  ii.  210  (note),  ii.  830. 
Peebles  v.  Plainstanes.    (See  Scott  ) 

Penelope  and  her  servants  (see  Homer,  Od.  xxii.),  ii.  295. 

Penrith,  letter  from,  i.  144. 

*'  Percy's  Reliques''  quoted,  i.  83  (note). 

Permanence,  the  blessing  of  a  fixed  life,  ii.  294. 

Perseus,  i.  159. 

Perugino,  i.  55  (note),  117,  120,  note,  and  121. 

Peter,  St.,  ii.  214. 

Petroleum,  ii.  322. 

Pharpar  and  Abana,  ii.  216. 

Phidias  and  Titian,  i.  140,  159. 

(ppac-aoo,  ii  355. 

"  Pickwick  "  referred  to,  ii.  290. 

Pictures— and  artists,  letters  on,  i.  Ill  ;  arrangement  of  in  a  gallery,  i. 
52,  53,  00 ;  cleaning  of,  i.  51 ;  galleries,  fatigue  of  visiting,  i.  42, 
61 ;  glazing  of,  i'.  51,  57,  58  ;  are  great  books,  i.  58,  60  (note),  76, 
106  ;  London  atmosphere,  effect  of  on,  i.  48 ;  modern  appreciation 
of,  i.  65;  novelty  of  a  purpose  in,  i.  77  ;  popular  idea  of,  i.  79; 
preservation  of,  i.  49,  59  ;  restoration  of,  i.  57  ;  purchase  of,  i.  65  ; 
common  tendency  of,  i,  78 ;  tone  left  by  time  on,  i.  49  ;  touches  on, 
value  of  last,  i.  57  ;  must  be  understood  as  well  as  seen,  i.  77  ;  value 
of  studies  for,  i.  62 ;  vanity  in  possessing,  i.  125  ;  worth  buying, 
worth  seeing,  i.  52,  58,  95.    (See  also  National  Gallery.) 

Pictures  referred  to,  see  National  Gallery,  Louvre,  and  under  the  names 
of  artists. 

Piedmont,  a  view  of,  ii.  217. 

4 'Pilgrim's  Progress"  referred  to,  i.  73. 

Pisaji.  313. 

Plato  quoted,  i.  31,  179  ;  ii.  298  ;  and  justice,  ii.  254. 
"  Plight,"  ii.  355. 

Plummer,  John,  letter  on  "  Supply  and  Demand,"  ii.  246,  247  (note). 
Po,  delta  of,  ii.  304  ;  embankments  for,  ii.  301. 
Pocock,  Mr.  T.,  ii.  326. 

Poetry,  disregarded  in  this  age,  i.  32;  and  painting  allied,  i.  33  ;  princi- 
ples of  criticism  of,  ii.  347  ;  better  read  than  recited,  ii.  357  ;  requi- 
sites for  enjoyment  of,  i  32  ;  of  Turner's  pictures,  lb. 

Poets,  modern,  ii.  349  (note). 

Point  sine  u,  under-pay  ment  of,  ii.  284. 

Poland  and  Russia,  ii.  222. 

Pole,  Geffrey,  his  "  Xenophon,"  ii.  295  (note). 

Political  Economy,  list  of  letters  on,  ii.  240  ;  and  morality,  how  con- 
nected, ii.  245,  246  ;  primal  fallacy  of  modern,  ii.  265  ;  Ruskin,  Mr., 
and  his  definition  of,  ii  279  (280-283) ;  scope  of  his  economy,  ii. 
292  ;  shelter  the  first  question  in,  ii.  298,  299  ;  true  and  false,  ii.  292- 

Politics,  list  of  letters  on,  ii.  209  ;  bewilderment  of  Mr.  Ruskin  at,  ii.  209  ; 
the  path  in,  ii.  213,  214  ;  tone  of  modern,  ii.  220 ;  in  youth,  ii.  327. 

Pompeii,  ii.  304. 

Pope's  "  Odyssey  "  quoted,  ii.  347,  and  note- 
Poplar,  artisans  of,  emigration,  ii.  282,  283  (note). 
Porterage,  ii.  322-324. 

Portrait  painters,  their  ignorance  of  landscape,  i.  30. 

Pottery,  ii  328.  -  -  ■ 


INDEX. 


405 


x'oussin,  Gaspar,  i.  17,  21  ;  his  "Sacrifice  of  Isaac,"  i.  17. 

*'       Nicholas,  i.  18. 
Powers,  for  labor,  order  of  their  employ,  ii.  320  ;  of  a  nation — depend- 
ent on  what,  ii.  231. 
Poynter,  Mr.  R.  A.,  at  Kensington,  i.  102,  and  note. 
Prayer,  obedience  the  best,  ii.  329. 

Pre-Raphaelitism,  etc.,  list  of  letters  on,  i.  55  ;  choice  of  features  by,  i. 
70,  71  ;  conceits  of,  i.  83,  and  note ;  drapery  of,  i.  70  ;  flesh  paint- 
ing of,  i.  71  ;  growth  of,  i.  80 ;  labor  of  Pre-Raphaelite  pictures,  i. 
75  ;  Liverpool  and,  i.  79  ;  meaning  of  the  word,  i.  68,  and  note  ; 
perspective  of  the  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren,  i.  69  ;  probable  suc- 
cess of,  i.  73  ;  religious  tendencies  of  Pre  Raphaelite  Brethren,  i. 
67,  73;  respective  value  of  Pre-Raphaelite  and  other  work,  i.  80, 
82 ;  want  of  shade  in  Pre-Raphaelite  work,  i.  73  ;  Pre-Raphaelite 
work,  true  and  false,  i.  77. 

Price,  dependent  on  labor,  ii.  257,  261  ;  a  just,  ii.  299  (note)  ;  deter- 
minable, ii.  262  ;  allows  for  necessary  labor,  ii.  257  ;  and  value,  ii. 
242,  265. 

Principle,  the  sense  of,  how  blunted,  i.  22. 

Property,  distribution  of,  ii.  268,  269  ;  principles  of,  ii.  271  ;  loss  of  in 

war,  ii.  238,  241. 
Proteus,  character  of  Shakespeare's,  i.  71. 

Prout,  i.  70  (note).    (See  Ruskin,  Mr.,  u  Notes  on  Prout  and  Hunt.") 
Provence,  winds  of,  ii.  321. 
"Protestant,"  ii.  326. 

Protestantism,  remarks  on,  ii.  209,  210  ;  aspect  of,  at  home  and  abroad, 
ii.  217  ;  hypocrisy  of,  ii.  210;  of  Italians,  French,  and  Austrians, 
ii.  211. 

Protests,  uselessness  of,  ii.  223. 

Protractor,  the  use  of  the,  i.  177  (note),  180. 

Prussia,  Frederick  William  IV.,  of,  ii.  213  (note).  (See  also  Franco- 
Prussian  war.) 

Public,  the,  defined,  i.  29  ;  their  judgment  in  art,  i.  29  ;  and  in  other 
matters,  i.  31  ;  their  ignorance  of  nature,  i.  31 ;  Frederick  Walker, 
how  affected  by,  i.  122. 

Public  Institutions  and  the  National  Gallery,  list  of  letters  on,  i.  47, 
(See  National  Gallery,  British  Museum.) 

Pullen,  Mr.  F.  W.,  Letter  to,  on  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  167  (note). 

Punishment,  ii.  320. 


Qnarles  Harris'  port,  ii.  267. 
Quebec,  emigration  to,  ii.  283. 


Kabbah,  ii.  351. 

Radetzky,  his  character,  ii.  211. 

Railways,  list  of  letters  on,  ii.  273  ;  accidents,  ii  284,  285  ;  doubling  of 
lines,  ii.  284,  285  ;  at  Dulwich,  ii.  290  ;  economy,  ii.  279  ;  invest- 
ment in,  ii.  277  ;  management  of,  ii.  278;  ownership  of,  ii.  277- 
279 ;  payment  of  pointsmen,  ii.  279-284  ;  stations,  decoration  of,  ii. 
88,  89. 

Rainbows,  reflection  of  in  water,  i.  171. 

Raphael,  i.  53,  81  ;  distinction  in  art  before  and  after,  i.  69  ;  pictures 


406 


INDEX. 


of  in  the  Louvre,  i.  59  ;  in  the  National  Gallery,  i.  57  ;  restored  by 

David  and  Vernet,  ib. 
Rationalism,  modern,  and  the  Liber  Studiorum,  i.  100  (note). 
Rauch,  Christian,  ii.  223,  224  (note). 
Reader,  the,  Letters  in — 


(November  12,  1864)  "  The  Conformation  of  the  Alps,"  i.  1G9. 
(November  26,  1864)  "  Concerning  Glaciers,"  i.  171. 
(December  3,  1864)  "  English  v.  Alpine  Geology,"  i.  171. 
(December  10.  1864)  44  Concerning  Hydrostatics,"  i.  181. 

Letters  and  articles,  etc.,  referred  to  :  by  "  M.  A.  C."  and  44  G.  M.,"  i.  181  (note)  ; 
Jukes,  Mr.,  i.  177  (note),  178  (note),  180  (note),  181  (note) ;  Murchison,  Sir 
R.,  i.  169  (note)  ;  44  Tain  Caimbenl,"  i.  170  (note). 

Real,  the,  and  the  ideal,  not  opposed,  i.  21,  and  note. 

Rebekah,  ii.  351. 
Recitations,  Letter  on,  ii.  356. 
Red  Prince,  the,  ii.  301. 

Reflections  in  water,  letter  on,  i.  186  ;  two  kinds  of,  i.  191  (note) ;  lines 

of  moonlight  on  the  sea,  i.  188  ;  of  rainbows,  i.  196. 
Reformation,  ii.  319  ;  instruments  of,  ib.  320. 
Reform  Bill,  1867,  ii.  319. 

Religion  and  mythology,  i.  118  ;  and  science,  i.  130. 
Rembrandt,  i.  27,  42,  115  (note). 

Rendu's  Glaciers  of  Savoy— letter  on  Forbes  in,  i.  182. 
Repair  of  buildings,  ii.  324. 

Republicanism  v.  Monarchy  in  the  Franco-Prussian  war,  ii.  242. 
Restoration,  modern,  letter  on,  i.  154 ;  impossible,  i.  150 ;  in  Italy,  i. 

168. 

ReTorence.  a  mark  of  high  intellect,  i.  185. 
Review  writing,  ii.  344. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  effect  of  gas  on  his  pictures,  i.  102 ;  grace  of,  ii. 

229  (note);  speed  of,  i.  102;  vehicles  used  by,  i.  101 ;  Mr  Ruskin's 

article  on,  ii.  224  (note). 
Rheims  Cathedral,  i.  151. 

Rhine,  embankments  for  the,  ii.  301 ;  foul  water  of  the,  i.  155 

(note). 
Rhone,  the,  ii.  301. 
Ribbesford  Church,  i.  155. 
Ricardo  s  "  Political  Economy,"  ii.  27. 
Rich  and  Poor,  money  how  spent  and  made  by,  ii.  291-297. 
Richmond,  George,  R.A.,  i.  167;  Professor  W.  B. ,  ii.  348. 
Rivers,  Italian,  ii.  300  seqq.    (See  Roman  Inundation  letters.) 
Roadmaking,  ii.  324. 
Roads,  who  should  own,  ii.  307,  308. 
Robert  le  Diable,  opera  of,  ii.  223. 

Rogers's  u  Italy,"  i.  86  ;  Poems,  i.  85,  96  ;  his  old  servant,  i.  107. 
Roman  inundations,  list  of  letters  on,  ii.  339. 
Roman  race,  the  qualities  of  the,  ii.  305. 
Rome,  and  the  floods,  ii.  304. 

Rose,  Society  of  the,  ii.  366  ;  the  heraldic  sign  on  Mr.  Ruikin's  books, 

ib. 

Ross.  Sir  William,  A.R.A.,  i.  69. 
Rosse,  microscopes  of  Lord,  i.  97. 


INDEX. 


407 


Rossetti,  i.  78,  ii.  374. 
Rossini,  ii.  869. 

Rotterdam,  cleanness  of,  ii.  308. 
Rouen  Cathedral,  i.  151. 

Rowland,  a,  needed  by  France,  ii.  247 ;  for  one's  Oliver,  ii.  271. 
Royal  Institution,  Dr.  Liebreich  s  lecture  at,  i.  151,  and  note. 

"  "        Mr.  Ruskin's  lecture  on  ' '  The  Alps  "  at,  i.  170  (note). 

"  "        Mr.  Ruskin's  lecture  on  "Verona"  at,  lb. 

Rubens,  advantageous  condition  in  which  to  see  his  pictures,  i.  49  ; 
characteristics  as  an  artist,  i.  49  ;  his  landscapes,  i.  27  ;  his  reply  to 
A.  Janssens,  i.  28  (note; ;  pictures,  at  Antwerp,  Malines,  Cologne,  i. 
49  ;  "Judgment  of  Paris,"  i.  54,  and  note;  "Peace  and  War," 

i.  49. 

Rules  good  and  bad,  ii.  284,  285. 

Buskin,  Mr.,  antipathies  of,  ii.  369  ;  an  antiquary,  i.  150  ;  art  teaching 
by  correspondence  approved  by,  i.  47  ;  art-work,  how  first  begun,  i. 
176  ;  Austrian  friend  of,  at  Venice,  ii.  212  ;  at  Bellinzona,  ii  306  ; 
bewildered  by  modern  politics,  ii.  207 ;  and  the  "  Bibliography  of 
R.,"  ii.  366  ;  his  books,  ii  342  (see  below,  books  of,  quoted) ;  his  books 
read  for  the  sound  of  the  words,  i.  158  ;  botany,  notes  on,  i.  76, 
198,  ii.  859  ;  castles,  his  love  of,  i.  144,  146,  148  (note)  ;  changes 
.  residence,  and  why,  i.  153  ;  charity  of,  i.  149,  ii.  325,  362  ;  con- 
science hereditary  to,  ii.  270  ;  a  conservative,  i.  149,  150,  ii.  227  ; 
and  Copley  Fielding,  i.  187  ;  criticism,— principles  of  his,  i.  186  ; 
rarely  replies  to,  i.  17,  91,  ii.  347  ;— crossing-sweepers  of,  ii  309  ; 
(note)  ;  diagram  of  Alpine  aiguilles,  i.  182  ;  dispirited,  ii.  364  ; 
drawing  of  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  158  ;  excuses  from  correspondence, 

ii.  362  ;  his  father,— business  of,  ii.  283,  and  note,  295,  296  ;  an 
Edinburgh  boy,  ii.  360  ; — Forbes1  gratitude  to,  i.  184  (note) ;  fort- 
une of,  ii.  295,  296  ;  gardener  of,  ii.  326  ;  geology,  knowledge  and 
early  love  of,  i.  176,  ii.  350 ;  geological  work  amongst  the  Alps,  i. 
169;  Griggs,  Matilda,  and,  ii.  362;  Guthrie,  Dr.,  and,  ii.  360; 
Harrison,  Mr.  W.  H.,  and,  ii.  368  ;  Hartz  minerals  purchased  bv, 
ii.  259  ;  Holyoake,  Mr.,  and,  ii.  274,  275  ;  illness  in  1878,  i.  157,  and 
note  ;  "  inconsistency  "  of,  i.  40  (note),  ii.  274  ;  influence  of  on  archi- 
tecture, i.  151  seqq.,  154  ;  insanity,  a  tender  point  with,  ii  317;  in- 
vestment in  house  property,  ii.  299  ;  investment  in  railways  — 
"  never  held  a  rag  of  railroad  scrip,"  ii.  278  ;  Irving.  Mr.,  and,  ii. 
365  (note)  ;  Italy,  knowledge  of,  ii.  220,  and  the  Italian  question, 
ii.  209  seqq.  ;  lectures,  refusal  to  give,  ii.  221,  and  note,  310  ;  lectures 
at  Westminster  Architectural  Museum  ii.  252  (note)  ;  Lowe,  Mr., 
and  (letter  ,  ii.  365  ;  at  Naples,  ii.  304 ;  natural  history,  love  of,  i. 
196  ;  newspapers  little  read  by,  ii.  216 ;  at  Oxford,  ii.  364,  184  ; 
resigns  professorship,  i.  160  ;  political  economy  of,  i.  176,  ii.  280, 
292,  293  (see  s.v.) ;  publication  of  books,  ii.  341  seqq.  ;  as  a  railwav 
traveller,  ii.  278  ;  range  of  work,  ii.  364 ;  religious  tone  of  his 
writings,  i.  65,  and  note  ;  restoration,  horror  of  modern,  i.  150, 154, 
156,  156  ;  rich,  moderately,  ii.  268  ;  science,  love  of,  i.  130,  176  ; 
servants  of,  ii.  289  ;  strikes,  proposal  as  to,  ii.  266  (note)  ;  a  Tory,  i. 
149,  150  ;  Turner.  R.'s  insight  for  his  work,  i.  109  ;  called  mad  for 
praising  Turner,  i.  109  ;  arranges  the  Turner  bequest,  i.  84,  86,  87, 
and  note,  88,  90,  101,  103  ;  executor  of  Turner's  will,  i.  84  ;  love  of 
Turner's  pictures,  i.  25;  Thornbury's  "Life  of  Turner"  criticised 
by,  i.  110;  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  and  i.  159,  166  ;  Ruskin  Society, 


408 


INDEX. 


i.  167  (note),  ii.  367  ;  Utopian  home,  ii.  315 ;  residence  in  Venice, 
i.  89  ;  wish  to  buy  "Verona"  {see  Verona),  i.  149. 
Ruskin,  Mr.,  books  of,  quoted  or  referred  to  : — 

"  Academy  Notes,"  i.  74  (note),  83  (note),  117;  ii.  229  (note). 

"A  Joy  for  Ever,1'  i.  40  (note),  105  (note),  186  (note)  ;  ii.  338  (note),  340. 

"  Aratra  Pentelici,"  ii.  311  (note). 

"  Ariadne  Fiorentina, "  i.  108  (note),  115  (note). 

"Bibliotheca  Pastorum,"  vol.  ii.  214  (note),  301  (note),  337  (note). 

"  Cestus  of  Aglaia,"  ii.  292  (note). 

«.«  Crown  of  Wild  Olive,'1  ii.  229,  262  (note),  339. 

44  Deucalion,"  i.  176  (note). 

u  Eagle's  Nest,"  ii.  311  (note),  326. 

V  Education  in  Art,"  i.  40  (note). 

*'  Elements  of  Drawing,"  i.  98  ;  ii.  343  (note). 
11  Essays  on  Political  Economy/'  see  below,  "  Munera  Pulveris." 
Evidence  before  National  Gallery  Commission,  1857,  i.  58  (note),  87  (note). 
"  Examples  of  Venetian  Architecture,"  i.  154  (note). 
44  Fiction  Fair  and  Foul,'1  ii.  290  (note). 
Fors  Clavigera,"  i.  148,  and  note,  157  (note),  165,  166,  167^  ii.  262  (note),  271 
(note),  273,  299  (note),  312  (note),  316,  342  (note),  363,  365. 

V  Giotto  and  his  Works  in  Padua,"  i.  40  (note). 
Holbein,  article  on,  ii  219  (note). 

44  Home  and  its  Economies,1'  ii.  330  (note). 

Lectures  on  Architecture  and  Painting,  i.  37  (note),  110  (note). 

Lectures  on  Art,  ii.  311,  338  (note). 

Lecture,  on  Forms  of  Stratified  Alps,  i.  171  (note). 

 on  Verona  and  its  ruins,  ii,  302  (note). 

Letters  on  the  Lord's  Prayer,  ii.  328. 

14  Modern  Painters,"  i.  17,  18  (note),  19  (notes  1,  2),  21,  22  (note),  51,  67  (note), 
69  (note),  74  (note),  104  (note),  110  (note),  111  (note),  152,  170,  182,  187  (note), 
172  (note)  ;  ii.  313,  343. 

44  Munera  Pulveris,"  ii.  347  (note),  372,  373,  380,  and  note,  385,  322,  358  (note). 

44  My  First  Editor,"  ii.  368  (note). 

Notes  on  Criminal  Classes,  ii.  317  seqq. 

Notes  on  Prout  and  Hunt,  ii.  (note). 

Oxford  Lectures,  ii.  311. 

44  Political  Economy  of  Art ; 11  see  above,  44  A  Joy  for  Ever.1" 
Pre-Raphaelitism,  i.  26,  71  (note). 
44  Queen  of  the  Air,"  ii.  349,  373. 

4'  Sesame  and  Lilies,'1  i.  67  (note);  ii.  341  (note),  349  (note). 
44  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,"  i.  67  (note). 

44  Stones  of  Venice,"  i.  154  (note),  158  ;  ii.  363  (note),  360  (note),  368  (note), 
44  Time  and  Tide,"  ii.  265,  361. 

Turner  pamphlets,  Catalogues  of  Sketches  and  Drawings,  i.  87,  and  note,  91 
(note).  104  (note). 

«*  44        Notes,  1857,  i.  88  (note),  94,  and  note,  105  (note),  196. 

«*  44        Report,  i.  63  (note),  65,  and  note,  91  (note). 

44  Two  Paths."  i.  91,  98. 
44  Unto  this  Last."  ii.  273  (note). 
44  Val  d'Arno,"  i.  115  (note);  ii.  311. 


Russia,  England,  and  India,  ii.  237. 


"S,"  letter  on  capital  from,  ii.  279,  and  note,  280. 
Saint  Bernard,  dogs  of,  ii.  217. 
St.  Elmo,  ii.  303. 

St.  George,  i.  159  ;  Company  or  guild  of.  i.  166  (note),  186  ;  fund,  ii. 
207  ;  letters  on,  183  (note) ;  museum  of,  i.  160,  ii.  274,  312;  schools 
of,  ii.  332 ;  Society  of  the  Rose  not  to  take  nam*  of,  ii.  367. 

St.  James  of  the  Rialto,  i.  162,  and  note. 

St.  Jean  d'Acre  pillars,  i  163. 

4k  St.  Lawrence,"  emigration  in  the,  ii.  283. 

St.  Michael,  i.  159. 


INDEX. 


409 


St.  Mark's,  Venice,  circular  relating  to,  i.  156  ;  letters  on,  i.  166  (note), 
167  ;  antiquity  of,  i.  157,  159,  architecture  of,  i.  159  ;  bill-posters 
on,  i.  163  ;  bit  off  it,  at  Brantwood,  i.  164  ;  photographs  of,  i.  161 ; 
restoration  of  south  fagade,  i.  J 65,  and  note;  stability  of,  i.  163, 
169  ;  subscriptions  for.  i.  160,  166  (note). 

St.  Paul  and  Justice,  ii.  254. 

St.  Paul's,  Charity  children  singing  at,  ii.  335. 

Sainte  Chapelle,  the,  i.  134,  150,  151. 

Salamanca,  battle  of,  ii.  235. 

Salvation,  the  Light  of  the  hope  of,  i.  76. 

Salvator  Rosa,  i.  29  ;  his  "Mercury  and  the  Woodman, "  i.  18. 
Sancho,  ii.  290. 

Sardinia,  position  of  in  1859,  ii.  209,  212. 
Savoy,  cession  of,  ii.  225,  and  note. 
Scarlet,  the  purest  color,  ii.  337. 
Schaffhausen,  letter  from,  ii.  219. 
Scholarship,  result  of  English,  ii.  291. 
Schools  (see  Education,  St.  George). 

Science,  list  of  letters  on,  i.  169  ;  connection  of  the  different  sciences, 
i.  130  (note)  ;  what  it  includes,  i.  44  ;  growth  of,  i.  46,  130,  132 ; 
and  religion,  i.  131 ;  use  of,  i.  131. 

"  Science  of  Life,  The,"  letters  in,  ii.  229,  235. 

Scotch,  ballads,  i.  83  (note)  ;  u  craigs,"  i.  143;  people,  religious  tone 

of,  ii.  209,  210,  213. 
Scotsman,  The,  letters  in — 

(July  20,  1859)  »*  The  Italian  Question,"  ii.  209. 

(  «*   23,    "  )      44  "        ii.  214. 

(Aug.  6,    "  )      "       "  "        ii.  219. 

(Nov.  10,  1873)  "  Mr.  Ruskin  and  Prof.  Hodgson,"  ii.  246. 

(  44    18,    44  )         "  44  44  ii.  243. 

Scotsman,  The,  referred  to,  i.  81  (note). 

Scott,  Sir  Gilbert,  design  for  Foreign  Office,  ?.  102. 

 ,  Sir  Walter,  books  of,  referred  to — 

44  The  Abbot,"  chap.  xvi.  (<!  The  monks  of  Melroso  mado  cood  kr.:!3"  also  quoted 

in  the  introduction  to  4<  The  Monastery       i  138. 
44  The  Antiquary  "  ( Fairservice),  ii.  290. 
44  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  canto  v.  st.  x.  quoted,  i.  177. 
"Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  canto  ii.  st.  viii.  quoted,  i.  1S8. 
44  Red  gauntlet,"  Letter  xiii.  (Peebles  v.  Plainstancs),  i.  180. 
44  Rob  Roy"  (carefu1  Mattie),  ii.  290. 
44  Waverley  "  referred  to,  ii.  309  (note). 


 ,  Mr.  W.  B.,  ii.  147;  reviews  Mr.  Tyrrwhitt's  "  Sketching  Club,"  ib. 

Sculpture,  in  architecture,  i.  123,  134  seqq.  ;  of  hair,  i.  1*41,  ii.  208; 

portrait  statues,  i.  138. 
Sea,  the,  ii.  351  ;  color  of,  i.  192 ;  light  and  shadow  on,  i.  189  seqq. ; 

southern  and  northern  seas,  ii.  356. 
Sedan,  battle  of,  ii.  237,  239. 
Seine-series,  Turner's,  i.  85,  100. 
Self-interest,  ii.  213,  250,  257. 

Sempach,  ii.  210,  and  note  ;  battle  of,  i.  178,  and  note. 
Serf-economy  in  America,  ii.  227. 


410 


INDEX. 


Servants  and  Houses,  list  of  letters  on,  ii.  285  ;  education  of,  ii.  293  ; 

facilities  for  leaving  places,  ii.  294 ;  good,  how  to  secure,  ii.  286  ; 

kindness  to,  means  care,  ii.  287  ;  rarity  of  good,  ii.  289,  and  note ; 

and  masters,  ii.  290  ;  must  be  permanent  to  be  good,  ii.  291,  297  ; 

Mr.  Buskin's  experience  of,  ii.  288. 
Service,  value  of  self-service,  ii.  289. 
Sexes,  relation  of  the,  ii.  333. 

Shadow  in  distant  effect,  i.  190  seqq.  ;  on  water,  i.  193  ;  impossible  uon 

clear  water,  near  the  eye,"  i.  187  seqq, 
Shakespeare,  his  mission  and  work,  i.  37  (note)  ;  notes  on  a  word  in,  ii. 

353,  354 ;  Society,  lb.  ;  quoted  or  referred  to — 

"As  You  Like  It,"  Act  2,  sc.  3  (Old  Adam),  ii.  290. 

"  M         Act  2,  sc.  7  ("  motley's  the  only  wear ''),  ii.  338. 

■*  Coriolanus,"  Act  3,  sc.  1  (**  mutable,  rank  scented  many"),  i.  49. 
44  Hamlet,"  Act  5,  sc.  1  ("  The  cat  will  mew,"  etc.),  ii.  290. 
"  Julius  Ccesar,"  Act  2,  sc.  1  (•'  And  yon  grey  lines,"  etc.),  ii.  353. 
•*  Measure  for  Measure,"  (Lord  Angelo),  ii.  330. 
"Merchant  of  Venice,"  ii.  253,  i.  162,  ii.  356. 
"Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,"  i.  118. 

"Midsummer  Night's  Dream,"  ii.  5,  Act  1,  sc,  1,  i.  67,  68  (note). 
"Romeo  and  Juliet,"  Act  2,  sc.  4  ("  Mv  fan,  Peter"),  ii.  241. 
"Taming  of  the  Shrew"  (Grumio),  ii.  290,  356. 

"        "         "      Act  2.  sc.  1  ("Katharine's  frets "). 
"  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,"  Act  2,  sc.  4  ("  As  rich  in  having,"  etc.),  i.  71. 
(Launce),  ii.  290. 

Shallow,  Justice,  his  theology  of  death,  i.  118. 

Sheepshanks  collection  at  Kensington,  i.  101  (note). 

Sheffield,  art  impossible  in,  ii.  322 ;  ironwork  at,  ii.  313  ;  Museum,  ii. 

269  (note),  i.  160  ;  Western  Park  at,  opened,  ii.  312  (note) ;  strikes 

at,  ii.  298. 

Sheffield  Daily  Telegraph  (Sept.  7,  1875),  St.  George's  Museum,  ii.  312. 
Sheffield  Independent  (March  8, 1880),  Mr.  Holyoake  on  St.  George's  Mu. 
seam,  ii.  273. 

Shelley,  quoted  to  illustrate  Turner,  i.  30;  his  "  Cloud,"  ii.  212. 
Shenstone  quoted,  i.  79,  and  note. 

Shepherd,  Mr.  R.  H.,  two  letters  on  the  Bibliography  of  Ruskin,  to,  ii. 
366. 

Shoeburyness,  ii.  303. 

Siena,  Fount  of  Joy  at,  ii.  306. 

Sienese,  qualities  of  the  race,  ii.  306. 

Simmons,  W.  H.,  engraver  of  u  Light  of  the  World,"  i.  74  (note)0 

Sinai,  the  desert  of,  ii  211. 
Singing  for  children,  ii.  335. 
Sire,  meaning  of,  i.  142. 

"  Sixty  years  ago"  (letter  in  Fall  Mall  Gazette,  Jan.  30,  1868),  ii.  309. 
Slave  markets  in  Mayfair,  ii.  227. 

Slavery  and  emancipation,  ii.  227,  228;  and  liberty,  ii.  294,  295  ;  and 

sonship,  ii.  286,  287,  289. 
Smith,  Mr.  Collingwood,  on  water  colors,  i.  107  (note). 
Smith,  Sydney,  memoirs  quoted  ("  Bunch "),  ii.  289  (note). 
Smoke,  no  art  in  midst  of,  ii.  116. 

Socialist^  The  (Nov.,  1877),  letter  on  the  44  Principles  of  Property''  in, 
ii.  271. 

Society  of  Arts,  i.  62  ;  of  Artists,  Sheffield,  ii.  359  ;  Ashmolean,  i. 


INDEX. 


411 


New  Shakespeare,  ii.  354,  355  ;  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Animals,  Mr.  Ruskin  at,  ii.  314  (note);  Buskin  Society  (of  the 
Hose),  ii.  191  ;  Science  Association,  Mr.  Ruskin  at,  ii.  265  (note). 
Solferino.  ii.  209  (note),  236,  239. 

Solomon,  ii.  827,350;  " seals  of  Solomon"  (Suleyman),  see  Arabian 
Nights. 

Solomon,  Mr.  A.,  his  44  Waiting  for  the  Verdict,"  i.  80  (note). 
Son.  relation  of.  to  father,  ii.  831. 
Sonship  and  slavery,  ii.  289,  291. 
Sorrento,  i.  197. 

Sonlr,  Marshal,  collection  of,  i.  90  (note). 
Southey  s  Colloquies  quoted,  i.  36  (note). 
Spain,  oppressed  by  Spaniards,  ii.  212. 
Sparkes/i.  103  (note). 

Spencer,  Mr.  Herbert,  quoted,  i.  190  (note),  ii.  330  (note). 
Sport,  field,  ii.  313. 

Sprat,  venture  a,  to  catch  a  herring,  ii.  243. 

Standard,  The,  letter  •«  Mr.  Ruskin  and  Mr.  Lowe  "  (Aug.  28,  1877),  ii. 

365  ;  article  on  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  165. 
Stanfield,  i.  37,  188  ;  illustrated  by  Campbell,  i.  34  ;  water-painting  by, 

i.  193. 

Statues,  commemorative,  modern  use  of,  i.  138. 

Steam,  to  be  employed  after  muscular  power,  ii.  283,  321. 

Stones,  pressure  of,  in  water,  i.  173,  182. 

Stothard,  engraving  of  design  by,  in  u  Rogers's  Poems,"  i.  96. 

Strasburg,  ruin  of,  in  Franco-Prussian  war,  ii.  231. 

Street,  Mr.,  influenced  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  i.  153  ;  his  New  Law  Courts,  i. 

153 ;  and  St.  Mark's,  i.  167. 
Streets,  state  of  London,  ii.  307. 

Strikes,  ii.  245,  246  ;  letter  u  Strikes  v.  Arbitration,"  ii.  249  ;  at  Cram- 
lington,  ii.  299,  and  note  ;  Mr.  Ruskin's  proposal  as  to,  ii.  265  (note); 
at  Sheffield,  ii.  299  ;  in  Staffordshire,  ii.  242. 

Stucco,  ii.  98. 

Sunrise,  rarely  seen,  ii.  355. 

Supply  and  Demand,  letters  on,  ii.  241  seqq.,  246  seqq.,  beneficial  sup- 
ply, ii.  246  ;  law  of,  ii.  277,  280,  286,  290,  298  ;  Mr.  Ruskin  and, 

ii.  292,  293. 
Swift,  quoted,  ii.  245. 

Swiss,  the  people  of  Bellinzona,  ii.  206  ;  the  liberties  of  Europe  and,  i. 

178  ;  Protestantism,  ii.  209-211. 
Sydenham,  and  railway  complaints,  ii.  280,  and  note. 
Syro-Phoenicia,  the  woman  of,  ii.  351. 

"Tain  Caimbeul,"  letter  in  Header,  i.  171  (note). 

Taylor,  the  trial,  ii.  316,  and  note. 

Telford,  "  Ruskin,  T.,  and  Donecq,"  ii.  261  (note). 

Tell,  William,  ii.  209,  and  note  ;  opera  of ,  ii.  369. 

Tempera-painting,  determined  by  Angelico,  i.  118. 

Temple,  Rev.  F.  (Bishop  of  Exeter),  i.  40  (note),  45. 

Tennyson,  quoted  :  44 Mariana,"  i.  67 (note);  <4  In  Memoriam,"  i.  175  ; 

44 Enid,"  ii.  293;  4S  Break,  break,"  etc.,  ii.  355  ;  mentioned,  ii.  359 

(note). 

Territory,  extent  of,  ii.  230. 


412 


INDEX. 


Thackeray,  Miss,  "The  Chaplain's  Daughter"  referred  to,  i.  120.  121 

(note) ;  "  Jack  the  Giant  Killer,"  ib. 
Thames,  the,  i.  179  ;  its  commerce,  i.  162  (note)  ;  its  mud,  ii.  274. 
Theatre,  the,  letter,  "  At  the  Play,"  ii.  261.    (See  Drama.) 
Theatre,  The,  letter  in,  <;  The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  ii.  265. 
Thorburn,  i.  69. 

Thornbury,  Walter,  "  Life  of  Turner,"  i.  111. 
Tiber,  inundations,  ii.  300,  304,  307. 
Ticino,  inundations,  ii.  301,  305. 
Times,  The  letters  in  : — 

(January  7,  1847)  Danger  to  the  National  Gallery,  i.  47. 

(May  13,  1851)  The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren,  i.  66. 

(May  30,  1851)  The  Pre-Raphaelite  Brethren,  i.  70. 

(December  20,  1852)  The  National  Gallery,  i.  56. 

(May  5,  1854)  "  The  Light  of  the  World,"  i.  74. 

(May  25,  1854)  "The  Awakening  Conscience,"  i.  77. 

(October  28th,  1856)  The  Turner  Bequest,  i.  84. 

(July  9,  1857)  The  Turner  bequest  and  the  National  Gallery,  i.  88. 

(March  20,  1850)  The  sale  of  Mr.  Windus'  pictures,  ii.  361. 

(Ootobar  21,  1850)  The  Turner  Gallery  at  Kensington,  i.  101. 

(October  24,  1862)  Oak  Silkworms,  ii.  340. 

(October  8,  1863)  The  Depreciation  of  Gold,  ii.  240. 

(January  27,  1866)  The  British  Museum,  i.  63. 

(January  24,  1871)  Turners  False  and  True,  i.  109. 

(June  6,  1874)  The  Value  of  Lectures,  ii.  310. 

(January  20.  1876)  The  Frederick  Walter  Exhibition,  i.  116. 

(April  25,  1878)  Copies  of  Turner's  Drawings,  i.  108. 

(February  12,  1876)  Despair  (extract),  ii.  310  (note). 

( February  2,  1880)  The  Purchase  of  Pictures,  i.  65. 

Articles,  etc.,  referred  to: — 

Critique  on  early  Pre-Raphaelite  works,  i.  66  (note). 

kk  Difficulties  of  Neutrality,"  Letter,  ii.  232  (note).    And  see  notes  to  above* 

named  letters. 

Tintoret,  i.  59,  81,  99,  112;  "  Susannah  and  the  Elders,"  i.  61,  and 
note. 

Titian,  i.  88,  42,  52,  53,  59,  61,  81,  99,  109,  112,  117,140;  i.  114;  his 

"  Bacchus  and  Ariadne,"  i.  50,  65,  and  note. 
Toccia,  inundation  of  the,  ii.  302. 
Tombs,  pompous,  i.  137. 
Tour,  La,  ii.  217,  218. 

Townshend,  Lord,  letter  by,  on  the  Circassian  exodus,  ii.  223,  and  note. 

Traceries,  not  to  be  copied,  i.  156. 

Trade,  the  true  dignity  of,  ii.  271,  and  note. 

Training,  moral  and  athletic,  ii.  331. 

Translation,  the,  of  words,  ii.  353. 

Trevelyan,  Sir  W.  C,  i.  131,  and  note. 

Trial  and  fate,  the  laws  of,  i.  122-3. 

Troliope,  Anthony,  on  field  sports,  ii.  314  (note). 

Tunbridge  Wells,  education  meeting  at,  ii.  309. 

Turin,  ii.  217,  218. 

Turner,  J.  W.  M.,  list  of  letters  on,  i.  84  seqq.\  his  pictures  ill  seen  in 
the  Academy,  i.  35,  36 ;  bequest  to  the  nation,  i.  60,  and  note,  84, 
102  ;  his  best  work  in  grey,  i.  99  ;  his  best  work  his  modern  work 
(1843),  i.  38  (note);  change  in  price  and  value  of  his  pictures,  i. 
41  ;  character  of,  i.  110  ;  Claude  challenged  by,  i.  56,  and  note  ;  the 


INDEX. 


413 


Turner  collection,  i.  64,  and  note ;  copies  of,  105,  and  note  ;  diffi- 
culty of  copying,  i.  98  ;  lesson  in  art  of  copying,  i.  38  ;  his  delicacy 
of  hand,  i.  98  ;  engravings  of,  their  value,  i.  93  ;  exhibitions  at 
Marlboro'  House,  i.  84,  and  note,  91-2,  95,  101,  104  ;  eyesight  of 
(Dr.  Liebreich  on  the),  i.  151  and  152  (note)  ;  44  Turners  "  False  and 
True,  i.  109  ;  a  Turner  gallery,  proposals  for,  i.  94  ;  Life  of,  i.  110-11; 
light  and  gas,  etc.,  effect  of,  on  his  pictures,  i.  86,  93,  101,  and 
note,  103,  106,  108  ;  the  Turner  mania,  i.  30  ;  mass  of  drawings 
left  by,  i.  103:  Norton's,  Prof.,  lecture  on,  i.  88  (note),  100  (note), 
108  (note) ;  pencil  outlines  of,  i.  96  ;  poetry  and  philosophy  of  his 
pictures,  i.  25,  29,  32,  35  ;  pre-Raphaelitism  of,  i.  72  (note),  80  ;  his 
44  Public,"  i.  29  ;  scorned  in  life,  i.  22,  25  ;  sea  subjects,  i.  195,  25, 
26  (note);  the  4* Shakespeare  "  of  painting,  i.  37,  and  note  ;  Shel- 
ley compared  with,  i.  35 ;  sketch-book  of,  i  88  (note)  ;  subtlety  of, 

i.  99  ;  requisites  for  enjoyment  of  his  work,  i.  35  ;  unusual  vehicles 
of,  i.  85  ;  Waagen's  estimate  of,  i.  25,  26,  and  note ;  water-painting 
by,  i.  195 ;  will  quoted,  i.  56  (note). 

Turner,  J.  W.  M. ,  Drawings  and  Sketches,  condition  of  at  death,  i.  93, 
104  (note) ;  copies  of,  108-9,  and  note  ;  distribution  of  among  pro- 
vincial schools  proposed,  1  64,  and  note,  104 ;  exhibitions  of,  at 
Marlboro'  House,  see  above,  at  Kensington,  i.  101,  and  note,  104  ;  a 
perfect  example  of  a  Turner  sketch,  98,  99,  and  note  ;  Ruskin's, 
Mr.,  arrangement  of,  i.  86,  91,  92 ;  report  on,  i.  63  (note),  65,  and 
note,  91 ;  44  Turner  Notes,"  etc.  (see  Ruskin,  Mr.). 

■  Pictures  and  drawings  of,  referred  to  :  Alnwick  Castle,  i.  195  \ 

"  Dido  building  Carthage,"  i.  59;  Edinburgh,  i.  104;  Egglestone 
Abbey,  i.  105,  and  note  ;  44  Fishermen  endeavoring  to  put  their  fish 
on  board "  (Bridgewater  House),  i.  26,  and  note  ;  Fluelen,  i.  107 
(note)  ;  Fort  Bard,  i.  104  ;  Harbors  of  England,  i.  85,  104  ;  Hornby 
Castle,  i.  117  ;  Ivy  Bridge,  i.  85,  104;  44  Landscape  with  Cattle,"  i. 
109,  and  note  ;  Langharne  Castle,  i.  105,  and  note :  Liber  Studi- 
orum,  i.  85,  88 ;  sale  of,  ii.  77  ;  Plains  of  Troy,  i.  105,  and  note  ; 
Richmond  series,  i.  105,  and  note ;  Rivers  of  England,  i.  104  ; 
Rivers  of  France,  i.  85  ;  River  Scenery,  ib.  ;  Rogers'  Italy  and 
Poems,  i.  85,  104;  Seine  series,  i.  104  ;  study  of  a  Cutter,  i.  99,  and 
note  ;  44  San  rising  in  a  mist,''  i.  56;  Val  d'Aosta,  i.  85  ;  Pictures 
of  Venice,  i.  195  ;  Yorkshire  series,  i.  93. 

Tuscan  army  (1859),  ii.  212. 

4'  Twenty  Photographs,"  review  of,  ii.  350,  and  note. 
Tvre,  the  citadel  of,  and  St.  Mark's,  i.  159. 
Tyrrwhitt's  4k  Sketching  Club,"  ii.  343. 

44  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  referred  to,  ii.  227. 

University  Magazine,  The  (April,  1878),  Mr.  Ruskin's  articles  in,  ii.  368 
(note). 

Utopia,  the  people  of,  and  their  streets,  ii.  307  ;  Ruskin '8  home  in,  ib.\ 

Sir  T.  More's,  ii.  367. 
Utopianism,  Mr.  Ruskin's,  ii.  274,  299. 

Uwins,  Thomas,  R  A  ,  knowledge  of  oil  pictures,  i.  56,  and  note  ;  keeper 
of  the  National  Gallery,  ib. 

Vallombrosa,  i.  179. 

Value,  intrinsic,  aquestion  outside  political  economy,  ii.  242  ;  and  price, 

ii.  240,  265. 


414 


INDEX. 


"  Vandalism  at  the  National  Gallery  "  fa  pamphlet),  i.  37,  38  (note). 
Van  de  Velde,  i.  26  ;  water  painting,  i.  195. 
Van  Eyck,  i.  53,  55,  56,  and  note,  72. 
Vasari  quoted,  i.  24  (note). 

Vaudois,  the  character  and  the  religion  of  the,  ii.  209,  217,  218. 

Velasquez's  44  Philip  IV.  hunting  the  wild  boar,,,  i.  51. 

Venice,  the  Cross  of  the  merchants  of,  i.  162  ;  market  of,  ib.  (note)  ; 

ruin  of,  ii.  135;  Ruskin,  Mr.,  in,  i.  90,  154,  ii.  139  ;  St.  James  of 

the  Rialto,  i.  160 ;  see  St.  Mark's. 
Venus  of  Melos,  ii.  35. 

4i  Verax,"  letters  on  National  Gallery,  i.  47  (note). 
Vernet,  Raphael  restored  by,  i.  48. 

Vernon;  Mr.  Robert,  gift  of,  to  the  National  Gallery,  i.  60,  and  note. 
Verona,  Campanile  of,  i.  166  ;  Mr.  Ruskin's  wish  to  buy  (see  "Political 

Economy  of  Art,"  Lect.  ii.  pp.  77-80,  reprinted  in  44  A  Joy  for 

Ever,"  pp.  83,  85),  i.  149,  and  note. 
Veronese,  i.  81,  99  ;  in  National  Gallery,  i.  56,  and  note  ;  <4  Marriage  in 

Cana,"  i.  90  ;  44  Family  of  Darius,''  ib.,  and  note  ;  *4  Rape  of  Europa," 

i.  56  (note) ;  St.  Nicholas,  ib.  ;  at  Venice,  pictures  destroyed, 

i.  48. 

Verrochio,  no  picture  by,  in  National  Gallery,  i.  54  (note). 

Vice  and  heroism,  ii.  320.  321. 

Villas,  modern,  ii.  297,  298,  and  notes  ;  i.  153. 

44  Vindex,"  letter  on  Barry  from.  ii.  353  (note). 

Virgil  quoted,  i.  158  (note)  ;  ii.  224,  and  note. 

Votes  for  Parliament,  ii.  327,  335. 

Waagen,  Dr.,  i.  26,  and  note,  27. 

Wages  and  labor,  ii  257,  261  ;  how  determined,  ii.  265,  and  note  ;  and 
hardship  of  work,  ii.  260  ;  a  just  rate  of,  ii  250,  251,  252  ;  "Stan- 
dard of"  (letter),  ii.  265,  266,  and  see  ii.  244. 

Wakley,  Thomas,  M.P.,  i.  34,  and  note. 

Wales,  Princess  of,  44  our  future  Queen,"  ii.  225. 

Walker,  Frederick,  letter  on  i.  116  ;  effect  of  public  on,  ib.  ;  elaborate- 
ness of,  i.  Ill  ;  moral  of  his  life,  i.  118,  119  ;  morbid  tendency  of, 
i.  117;  method  of  painting,  i.  117;  study  of  art,  i.  118;  special 
pictures  by,  i.  120  seqq.,  and  note. 

Walpole's  4 'Anecdotes  of  Painting"  referred  to,  i.  28  (note). 

War.  American,  loss  of  property,  ii.  239  ;  English  feeling  as  to,  ii.  221- 
223.  225 ;  44  modern  warfare,"  letter  on.  ii.  235,  and  see  ii.  229. 

Ward,  Mr.  William,  copies  of  Turner,  i.  108,  and  note;  photographs 
obtainable  of,  i.  160. 

Warwick  Castle,  burning  of,  letters  on,  i.  148  seqq.,  149  seqq.  ;  the  king- 
maker, i.  150. 

Waste  land,  bringing  in  of,  ii,  324. 

Water,  use  of  in  labor,  ii.  321,  322  ;  pressure  of  stones  in,  i.  173,  182  ; 
reflections  in.  i.  187  (note),  and  seqq.  ;  of  rainbows  in,  i.  196  ;  sur- 
face polished,  i.  191,  193  seqq. 

Water  colors,  effect  of  light,  etc.,  on,  i.  93,  94,  106,  and  note,  107 ;  series 
of  British  at  Kensington,  i.  101  (note) ;  Society  of  Painters  in,  i.  118, 
163,  196  (note). 

Waterloo,  battle  of,  ii.  236. 

44  W.  B.,"  letter  in  Daily  Telegraphy  ii-  292  (note). 

"  W.  C.  P.,"  letter  in  Times  on  44  Neutrality,"  ii.  232  (note). 


INDEX. 


415 


Wealth,  definition  of,  letter  on  the,  ii.  271  ;  Mill  challenged  to  define,  ib. 
Weapons,  ancient  and  modern,  ii.  238. 
"  Weary  Faulds,"  ii.  309,  and  note. 
Weblings,  recitation  of  the,  ii.  357. 

Weekly  Chronicle,  letter  4 4  Modern  Painters*'  in  the  (September  23, 

1843),  i.  17. 
Weller,  Sam,  ii.  290  ;  see  Dickens. 
West,  Benjamin,  i.  81. 
Western  Park,  Sheffield,  ii.  312  (note). 

Westminster,  the  first  Norman  Abbey,  i.  158;  Mill,  J.  S.,  M.P.  for,  ii. 

226  (note). 
4<  Whinnyhills,"  ii.  309  (note). 

Whitaker's  '4  History  of  Riehmondshire,"  i.  117  (note). 

White,  Adam,  letter  on  "the  Study  of  Natural  History"  to,  i.  199. 

Whitmore,  Dr.,  report  of  Crawford  Place,  ii.  298. 

4 4  W.  H.  W.,"  letter  to  Daily  Telegraph  on  houses,  ii.  297,  and  note,  298. 
Wicklow  Hills,  i.  177. 
Wife,  place  of  a,  ii.  335. 

Wilkie,  Sir  David,  44  The  Blind  Fiddler,"  i.  22  (note)  ;  Burns  and, 

compared,  i.  35. 
Wilkinson,  Sir  Gardner,  ii.  372,  and  note. 

Williams,  Mr.  (of  Southampton),  Lecture  on  u  Art  teaching  by  Corre- 
spondence, }  to,  i.  47. 
Wind-power,  use  of,  ii.  321. 

Windus,  Mr.  B.  J.,  sale  of  his  pictures,  ii.  361 ;  W.  L.,  44  Burd  Helen," 

i.  82,  83,  and  notes. 
Winkelried,  Arnold  von,  ii.  210,  and  note. 
Winsor,  Charlotte,  ii.  293  (note). 
Witness,  The,  letters  in  : — 

(September  16,  1857)  il  The  Castle  Rock,"  i.  142. 
(September  30,  1857)  "Edinburgh  Castle,"  i.  144. 

(March  27,  1858)  Generalization  and  the  Scotch  Pre-Raphaelities,  i.  80. 
(August,  1859)  Refusal  by,  of  Letters  on  the  Italian  Question,  ii.  219  (note). 

Women,  list  of  letters  on  their  work  and  dress,  ii.  335 ;  duty  and  em- 
ployment of,  ii.  336 ;  modern  ideas  as  to,  ii.  336  ;  place  of,  ii. 
331  ;  work  of,  ii.  337  (note),  336  (note). 

Woodward,  Mr.,  and  the  Oxford  Museum,  i.  122  (note). 

Woolner,  Mr. ,  and  the  Oxford  Museum,  i.  136. 

Words,  definition  of,  ii.  257. 

Wordsworth,  depth  of,  i.  39  (note)  ;  his  "  public,"  i.  28 ;  quoted,  i,  31, 

32,  38,  and  note,  145.  146 ;  ii.  212,  214  (note). 
Work,  the  best  unpaid,  ii.  261,  and  note  ;  honest  alwavs  obtainable,  ii. 

248,  321. 

Work  and  Wages,  letters  on,  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  ii.  249-265. 
Workrae  i,  turned  off,  ii.  233  ;  training  of  for  Gothic  architecture,  i.  133. 
Works  of  art,  manufacture  of  by  poor,  ii.  325. 

World,  The  (June  9,  1875),  letter  on  the  14  Publication  of  Books,"  ii. 

341  ;  article,  <;  Ruskinto  the  Rescue,"  ib.  (note). 
Wornum's,  R.  N.,  "Life  of  Holbein, "  ii.  218  (note);  at  the  National 

Gallery,  i.  95,  88  (note)  ;  Turner  drawings  arranged,  ib.  90. 
Worth,  battle  of,  ii.  237. 

41 W.  R.  G.,"  letters  of,  to  Pail  Mall  Gazette,  ii.  267-270,  and  notes. 


416 


INDEX. 


Xenophon's  Economist,  quoted,  ii.  295,  and  note. 
4<  Y.  L.  Y.,''  letter  in,  on  the  gentian,  i.  198  (note). 
T.  M.  A.  Magazine,  letters  in  :  — 

(September,  1879)  *«  Blindness  and  Sight,"  ii.  225. 
(October,  1879)  "  The  Eagle's  Nest,"  ii.  226. 
(November,  1879)  "  Politics  in  York,"  ii.  227. 

Young  Men  and  Politics,  ii.  227. 

Zedekiah,  ii.  254. 
Zeus,  i.  159. 

Zorzi,  Count,  and  St.  Mark's,  Venice,  i.  157  (note). 
Zositna,  epitaph  on,  ii.  292. 
Zuingli,  19,  and  note. 


